Cry of Orphans
by Aliasscape
Summary: Sydney Bristow doesn't exist anymore...Maybe being normal drove her insane...SV, FutureFic Updated with Part 11 *On Hiatus*
1. Cry of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Sydney Bristow doesn't exist anymore...._  
SD-1 June Challenge Entry: 2nd Place Winner.  
RATED PG  
GENRE: Angst  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive. 

_Dedicated to Paty, who by writing the fluffiest entry imaginable, has forced me to exact my revenge with an attack of angst._   
  
**CRY OF ORPHANS**  
by Aliasscape  
Copyright 2003   


He'd know her anywhere. 

Even with the dark shades, blonde wig, a sunhat, and half obscured by a tree, he recognized her without a second glance. Eight years hadn't made him forget the way she walked, or stood, or the shape of her cheeks, her ears, her lips. He panicked a moment. He got up from his seat at the table. When he'd agreed to come to this wedding reception in the park, he hadn't thought about how exposed it really made him. Why should he? She'd been gone for eight years. Dead to him. Dead to the world. 

Vaughn looked across the park to children playing. His own wild princess wasn't yielding to the rules of wearing a frilly, pink, flower girl dress. Her white dressy shoes had been abandoned in the sand next to her flower basket. She was up another tree, being the adventurous nine year-old that she was. Untamable. She wasn't going to notice if he stole away for a few minutes. 

He walked away from the reception slowly. He thought maybe she'd run. She simply seemed to realize her disguise wasn't working and removed the sunglasses. She had the audacity to smile at him. Seeing her smile only made him angry. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stiffly. 

Her eyes went to the girl up the tree, who was daring to drop twigs on the unsuspecting wedding guests. "I wanted to see her." 

The words stung his ears. How dare she. He took a step to block her line of vision. "How did you know we'd be here?" he had to ask. Had she been spying on him? On them? And if so, for how long? 

Her brown eyes showed an annoyance they had no right to claim. She was the uninvited guest. "Once a spy, always a spy," she answered, sharply and her words cut right through him. She smiled sadly at the bride and groom, feeding each other cake. "I hope they're ready." 

Vaughn swallowed and caught a look in her eyes. She hadn't been ready. 

_Sloane wasn't defeated. He just disappeared._

After a year of not having a single new lead they could solidly tie to Sloane, Sydney had decided to get out. Leave the CIA. It had seemed only natural that Vaughn's relationship with her progressed after that. Maybe they hadn't thought things through well enough. Maybe they spent too much time kissing and not enough time conversing. Maybe he'd pushed her. Maybe she only went through the motions of love and never felt any of it. Maybe she didn't want to. Maybe she didn't know how. 

The wedding was small, only family and their closest friends. They bought a white two-story house in the suburbs. He stopped doing field work except on occasion. She took up teaching at a college. He thought they were happy. He loved their life together. He thought she did, too. He loved it when they would spontaneously take off and spend a night in Paris, or Hawaii or Australia. He suggested after a year that they have a baby. She said she liked it being just the two of them. So, he waited six months and suggested it again. She said she was busy with work and there wasn't any time. So, he waited another six months. 

_She looked up from grading papers in bed and gave him a strange look. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"_

_He frowned slightly, then brushed her arm with the tip of his finger. "I want to have a baby. And I want to have it with you. What's so difficult to understand about that?" _

She smiled at him. "Okay," she whispered and set the papers aside. She rolled over and kissed him. "Let's have a baby." 

She was pregnant three months later. She decorated the room in yellow and green and teddy bears. She showed little interest in finding out the gender of the baby. He enjoyed three a.m. trips to get pickles and ice cream and Chinese food. They discussed names as they baby-proofed the house months before it was required. 

Taryn Lelise Vaughn was born on the fifth of May. 

_"Taryn. It means young soldier."_

He got to hold her first. Sydney wanted him to. He thought she was just too tired after nine hours of labor. Taryn looked like her mother. The same brown hair, the same brown eyes and just beautiful. He thought their lives were going to be perfect. Everything was so normal. 

_Maybe being normal drove her insane._

It was only a few days after getting her home that things seemed to fall apart. Sydney couldn't breast-feed. A doctor found them a good formula. He found himself up with their daughter most nights, hoping Sydney could get some much needed rest. He could stare at Taryn for hours. He liked getting up with her in the middle of night. Sydney went back to work before he did. 

_"Taryn likes you better anyway."_

But she was barely at work a week before she had to take time off again. She would sleep twelve hours a day. She'd feed Taryn, change her, any basic needs. But something wasn't right. She didn't seem attached to the child in the way she should. She would keep her distance from Taryn, especially when the baby was upset. Sometimes he'd catch her crying over the crib when Taryn was sleeping, but she'd never tell him what was wrong. 

_"It's post-partum depression." _

"She just needs more rest." 

But it was almost as if she was distressed simply by the baby. 

Sydney's behavior became odd and erratic. He'd wake up in the middle of the night and she'd be gone. Sometimes, she wouldn't return for a day or two. 

_"Where have you been? I've been worried sick." _

"I just needed some time to myself. To think." 

"About what?" 

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed now." 

He let it go too many times, because she was always better when she returned. She'd hold Taryn more, play with her more. She'd give him more attention, too. Maybe she really was just overwhelmed sometimes. He figured it'd get easier when Taryn was older. He'd ask Will or Jack or Weiss to babysit intermittently. He'd take Sydney on vacation or sometimes they'd just sit at home. When it was just the two of them, Sydney was normal. 

When Taryn was six months old, Sydney returned to teaching part time. He waited a couple weeks, to see if she could handle it, before he finally went back to working full-time himself. They hired Taryn a part-time nanny. 

And then, Taryn was nine months old. 

_Weiss flagged him down at the Ops Center. "I saw Sydney heading for your office. She brought the baby in. She's really growing." _

He grinned. "Yeah, she is." He hurried into his office. 

Taryn sat in her baby carrier on the floor in front of his desk. Sydney was nowhere in sight. He thought perhaps she'd stepped out for a minute, but he noticed something in the middle of his desk. It was a black pen. Gold letters on it read: "Sydney and Michael Vaughn: August 12." 

Marshall had given it to them on their wedding day. And, it wasn't an ordinary pen. Vaughn clicked the top and Sydney's voice began to play. 

"I don't know how to do this. I've been trying so hard to pretend that everything's alright. It's not and you know it's not. And I can't pretend anymore. I know you'll be alright. I know you'll both be alright. Probably better." Her voice cracked. "Goodbye, Michael." 

He got up, grabbed the baby carrier, and rushed to the parking garage. Her car wasn't there. He dialed her cellphone only to have it ring back at him from inside the carrier. He hurried back inside to the Ops Center. 

"What's going on?" Weiss asked him. 

He shook his head, almost unable to speak. He was grateful when Weiss took the baby carrier from him. "She's gone. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen." 

"What are you talking about?" Weiss demanded. 

"Sydney's gone!" he shouted. He immediately regretted it as Taryn began to cry. He picked her up and tried to comfort her, but she cried for a long time. As if she knew she wasn't ever going to see her mother again. 

He'd gone home to find most of Sydney's things gone from the house. He tried to track her. Everyone tried. He'd run off on any lead at the beginning. He thought if he could just speak to her. If he could just get her some help. Let her know, whatever it was she was going through, he was there, then he could bring her back. 

But then the reports started coming in. Sloane resurfaced first. Then, Derevko and Sark. And then someone new popping up wherever Derevko did. 

_"She left to stop Irina on her own." _

"She left to join her." 

It didn't matter what the reason was. She had left their daughter. She had left him. She gave up everything and everyone to chase down the one person she had wanted since she was six years old. It scared him to death to think that one day, Taryn might do the same thing. 

He realized he couldn't keep chasing Sydney. Sydney Bristow didn't exist anymore. And he couldn't take the whispers around the office. 

_"His wife is the traitor."_

Vaughn couldn't leave Taryn without a father, too. He retired and made her his focus. She was two years old then and she needed him. He needed her. But he found himself outmatched by her more times than he'd care to admit. She was too stubborn, too bold, and too adventurous for her own good. He thought it was better not to speak of Sydney. He finally understood why Jack Bristow had lied all those years. He didn't want her to know that her mother had abandoned her. He didn't want her to know who her mother was. Vaughn felt the same. It meant hiding the pictures. It meant not speaking of her. But the child was too intuitive. And she resented him for keeping his secrets. 

Jack Bristow left them alone after Vaughn's decision. Perhaps looking at Taryn, who was an exact copy of his daughter and his ex-wife was too much to bear. Taryn had inherited all the features of her mother and grandmother and with it, the Bristow women's curse. She was determined to be independent. It seemed she was only trapped in a child's body. She carried the weight of three generations. The lies, the betrayals, the deep dark family secrets.... 

_"The other kids asked me today why I don't have a Mommy. They asked me if she was dead. They asked me if you and her were divorced. Dad, I'm the only kid in my class whose Mommy just doesn't exist."_

He had to pull her out of school shortly after that. She had gotten into too many fights. The school told him she might be better suited in a more controlled environment. 

_"She's six years old!" he exclaimed. _

"And she broke another child's nose. We simply can't have her here." 

He walked out of the meeting and knelt down in front of his small daughter. "Why?" he questioned, his face pained with concern. 

"He said I'm an orphan." She looked down and backed away when he tried to hug her. She continued in a whisper. "Being without a mother, it is like being an orphan." 

He home-schooled her himself. They needed the time together. He needed to get to know his daughter and hear more of the thoughts she seemed to be unable to share most of the time. Her behavior improved, but he still found that when she was upset, he couldn't touch her pain. She wouldn't let him in. He blamed Sydney for that. For making his daughter someone who felt she couldn't completely rely on anyone but herself. So, he put her in therapy. 

_"Taryn has a lot of repressed anger."_

As if he didn't already know that. For that matter, he had a lot of repressed anger. He took it out on beer bottles in the woods behind their house with his 9 mm. 

_"Can I do it too, Daddy?"_

The first three times he told her no. But he gave in once, carefully teaching her the proper way to shoot. He'd kept her away from anything spy-related for so long, but found she was a good shot. And they seemed to bond over broken beer bottles better than they could talk over dinner. 

Somehow in the last year though, things were alright. He'd finally gotten Taryn to make some friends her own age. She'd been able to enter public school and she was a grade ahead for her age. With Taryn in school, Vaughn had even made the difficult transition back to a CIA analyst. He kept away from cases involving Sloane, Derevko or Sydney. Jack Bristow had even stepped into their lives again. 

_"I don't want to repeat the same mistakes."_

That was his explanation. It was all Vaughn needed to hear. Taryn accepted having a grandfather cautiously at first. But she got used to him quickly. She seemed to find something comforting in Jack's serious demeanor. 

It was a Saturday afternoon at the park at the wedding of Agent Craig who had been all too pleased to have Taryn be the flower girl. Everything was going so well. So, "Why now?" 

Sydney looked him in the eye. "Because I'm here now." 

"You never called. You never wrote. You never attempted to make a single contact in eight years." He didn't need her here to destabilize their lives again. 

"Yeah, well, it took my mother over twenty years. So, I think I'm ahead," she responded. She sidestepped him so he could no longer obscure her view. 

Vaughn turned in time to see Weiss pulling Taryn out of the tree. "What do you want?" he necessitated. But his worst fears were playing in his head. 

_She's here to take her away. She's here to take Taryn. I'll have her arrested first. I'll kill her first._

Weiss picked the tree leaves from Taryn's hair. She slipped back on her shoes and took her basket. She glanced around and for a moment Vaughn worried she'd spot him and come over. He took a step back to remain shadowed by the trees and Taryn took off towards the dessert table. 

"What if I wanted to undo the damage I've done?" Sydney asked him. 

"It's not possible," Vaughn said, coldly. 

"You told me once, you said, I wasn't my mother." She took a few steps away, keeping her back to him. 

"You didn't have to be." 

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?" 

Vaughn felt the hate he'd directed at her for the last eight years start to rise. He walked around her to get a look at her face. "Tell me that they tortured you. That they threatened you. Threatened me. Threatened Taryn!" 

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to make excuses?" 

"I want a reason. I want to know how you could leave us. I loved you with every fiber of my being." 

"It wasn't enough," she said matter-of-factly. "I didn't have a mother. I didn't know how to be one." 

"You didn't even try." Vaughn shook his head. "You've seen her. Go back to being whomever you've become." He started to walk away. 

"I'm going to turn myself in." 

He halted, but didn't turn around. "That won't fix anything." When he got no response, he glanced behind him and she was gone. He scanned the park quickly with his eyes, almost expecting to find her lurking among the wedding guests. But he didn't see her. 

He rejoined the reception and sat back down in his seat. He sat his cellphone on the table in front of him. Taryn came up and climbed into his lap. "Want some cake, Daddy?" She had a large piece of white cake decorated with pink frosting sitting on her plate. He nodded. 

Taryn fed him a bite off her fork. The cake was sickeningly sweet. As he swallowed, his eyes watered, overcome by the realization that he might never have another moment as peaceful as this ever again. Taryn put her cake down and hugged him without a single word. He hugged her back. His wild princess. His young soldier. 

They stayed wrapped in each others arms until his cellphone rang and shattered the moment. He let it ring once more as he whispered in his daughter's ear. "I love you." Then, he put the phone to his ear and heard the words he knew were going to divide his world. 

_"Your wife just turned herself into the CIA."_   
__ 

A/N: Okay, so that's my first attempt to write anything S/V. What'd you think? 

Challenge elements: 1) Guest at a wedding 2) Chinese Food 3) Line: "She's gone. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen." 


	2. Plea of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Perhaps she was never a child. Perhaps she never grew up._  
Sequel to "Cry of Orphans"  
RATED PG  
GENRE: Angst  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
A/N: I've finished writing the first sequel. If you liked this stand alone, that's fine, (I like it that way too). You don't have to read on. Once the sequel gets going the story becomes a little less finished. Slowly, one story at a time, I'll fill in the missing pieces. So the sequel stories aren't meant to be as standalone as "Cry of Orphans".  
  
_This one's for all of you. :)_  
  
**PLEA OF ORPHANS**  
by Aliasscape  
Copyright 2003 

The second the phone rang, he knew it was her. 

It was well past midnight. In his CIA days, he only got emergency calls at this hour. Since he'd left, only she called at this hour. He let it ring twice more anyway. Then, slowly, he lifted the receiver to his ear. He said nothing. He didn't have to. She spoke immediately. 

"She's there, isn't she? In LA." Her voice was accusatory as if he had lured her there himself. 

"Yes," he responded simply, refusing to be affected by her tone. 

"You've seen her." 

"I saw what's left." It was Jack's turn to sound accusatory. He had insisted upon being first to see her, though it wasn't as if people had been lining up. 

_"They've finished processing her. She's in the cell downstairs where--"_

_"I know the way." He walked down there calmly. He waited patiently for all three gates to rise. He stepped beyond the final gate and stopped, just to look at her. To see her in the flesh for the first time in eight years. As if looking at her could answer all the questions. _

She looked upon him with perceptive brown eyes that took in everything and revealed nothing. She had grown her hair into a wild mane that extended halfway down her back. He stepped closer. She shifted, tucking her hair behind her ear and he immediately noticed several long scars, extending vertically up from her wrists to halfway up her forearm. 

His stare hardened and he searched her face. She wore a smile that meant nothing a smile should mean. 

"She came to me that way eight years ago." 

"You should have sent her home." 

"She wouldn't have gone. You know that." 

He sank into the leather chair next to the fireplace. 

It had been a time exactly as this that he had heard from his daughter the day after she'd disappeared. He had just arrived home after spending hours checking flight records. It had been no use. Sydney could have been going anywhere, looking like anyone. But as he'd stepped in the front door, he'd heard the answering machine clicking on. 

_"Dad, I...I didn't want you to worry. I just couldn't stay there anymore. Not with him. I tried, please believe that. And please...just let me go."_

He'd grabbed the phone then. Called her name. The line was dead. He had the call traced to a pay phone at an airport in Chicago. He sent agents there, but they came up empty. It didn't make any sense. With Sloane no longer an active threat, she had seemed so happy to be married. To be with Vaughn. To quit the CIA. He needed to know what had happened. He tracked down Vaughn at the rotunda. 

_"She didn't tell me anything. She just said things weren't okay. Things slowly started to get worse from the time Taryn was born."_

_"What did you do to help her?" Jack demanded. _

Vaughn looked up from his desk with sad eyes. "There was nothing I could do. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong." 

He stared down at the younger agent, disapprovingly. "This has been going on for nine months, and you didn't tell me." Jack kept his voice quiet, restrained. 

Vaughn shook his head. "Because I didn't think that was what she needed." 

"You obviously didn't know what she needed." Jack turned and walked away from Vaughn's desk. 

Irina's voice on the opposite end cut through his thoughts. "She was so lost." 

Jack stood, angry that she could sound so surprised. But then, only he could recall the lost six-year-old that had repeatedly asked him, 

_"Where's Mommy? When will she be home?"_

"You only took advantage of that." 

That answer got him a minute of silence on the other end. 

The reports that had to be Sydney doing unauthorized espionage had turned his stomach. His daughter. The bright-eyed child with so much ability and promise. How could she have become as ruthless and deceitful as her mother? Sydney had been his reason to live. She'd kept him sane. She'd inspired him with her courage and strength. 

_And he'd failed her in every way possible._

Vaughn gave up on the search for Sydney. It was his prerogative. She was only his wife, not his daughter. Vaughn had custody of the only blood that bound them together. Nothing required him to keep looking. 

_"It's been over a year, Jack. She hasn't even tried to contact me." _

"You want to give up." 

"No, I don't want to. But, Sydney's gone. She's not coming back." 

As Vaughn spoke, he'd walked around the house, gathering each and every photograph that he had of Sydney. He grabbed jewelry, clothes, home videos and stuffed them all haphazardly into boxes. He'd watched how thoroughly Vaughn searched the house for anything too reminiscent of Sydney. Anything that Taryn could use to figure out who her mother was. Vaughn claimed it was to save her from the pain of knowing that she'd been abandoned. Jack wondered if Vaughn simply wanted to pack up his memories of Sydney. 

_"Would you have me tell my daughter that her mother abandoned her? You think it'd be healthy for her to grow up knowing that?" Vaughn looked at him with pain in his eyes. It was definitely too painful for him. _

"Then, what will you tell her?" 

"About Sydney. Nothing. No names. No pictures. We have no idea if Sydney will turn up all over the news as wanted in this country. I can't have Taryn exposed to that. Sydney is not going to be a part of our lives anymore." 

Jack had left the house without another word. If Sydney wasn't going to be a part of their lives, then obviously he couldn't be either. He refused to shut out Sydney. Not when he knew she hadn't shut him out. 

There were late nights the phone would ring. He knew it was her. She wouldn't say anything. He would just hear her breathing. He thought he should say something comforting or important to her at first. She would hang up after he said only a few words. All she really wanted was to hear his voice. Sometimes he would tell her how things were going back in L.A. or how concerned he was for her. One night, he'd gone so far as to express regret at not protesting her marriage to Vaughn more at the time. He'd been startled to actually get a response on the line. 

_"Don't blame him, Dad. Whatever you do, please don't blame him." She paused. "They need you." _

"They need _you, Sydney." _

"I have to go now." 

She didn't call for a long time after that. 

He didn't give up searching for her. He would have continued to use his CIA channels, but then he got a call from an old enemy. 

_"She's as remarkable as ever, Jack. Everything I always knew she could be and more."_

Then, he hoped she could accomplish what he never had. A bullet to the brain of one Arvin Sloane. 

Sydney had been gone five years. He stopped hoping the CIA could find her. The reports of the crimes of an enigmatic protege for Derevko became increasingly atrocious. He recognized a pattern to her missions that he didn't share with anyone. 

_"You're keeping things from us."_

He didn't deny it. He simply retired. His former superiors might have pressured him more, but by then they had lost all trace of Sydney, or whoever she had become. It even worried him at first. She could have been killed. She could be an unidentified body somewhere. But after six months, came the calls after midnight. Calls that weren't from Sydney. 

_"She's taken charge of her destiny." _

"What did you let her do?" 

"It was her choice." The pain in Irina's voice frightened him. 

"Where is she?" 

"Sloane has her now." 

And for the first time since Sydney had disappeared, he truly felt as though he had lost her. Lost her to Sloane. Nothing could be worse than that. 

It was another six months before she resurfaced again. She didn't contact him. If she contacted her mother, Irina never told him. But they began to share the reports they had. The destruction of a lab in Budapest. The disappearance of a prototype from China. Their conversations were drenched in regret, but had an undertone of detached pride as they analyzed how she'd done and gotten away with each mission. 

He had always believed Irina caused him to lose his sanity. But even he had to admit, after losing Sydney, the conversations with Irina were all he had to hang onto. He didn't speak to Vaughn. Their only contact was a yearly envelope that contained nothing more than a picture of Taryn with her new age written on the back. He would take the old picture he kept in a frame beside his chair in the living room, put it in an album, and replace it with the new one. 

And then, only several months after placing Taryn's seven-year-old picture in its frame, he received a strange late afternoon call. 

_"Jack, it's me, Vaughn..." He waited, trying to figure out why Vaughn was calling for the first time in five years. "I just...I thought you would want to know, I'm up at the hospital...with Taryn." Vaughn sighed. _

"Is she alright?" Jack asked, calmly. 

"She had an accident. She has a concussion, they're going to keep her overnight. I thought--" 

"Which hospital?" 

"What?" 

"I'll come immediately. Which hospital?" 

Vaughn had sounded so grateful as he'd rattled off the hospital and Taryn's room number. The only awkward moment was when he first arrived at the room. Vaughn stopped him in the doorway with a question on his face that seemed to ask what had suddenly changed. What he was doing there. 

Only several weeks before, Irina had been on the phone scolding him for not visiting Taryn. 

_"You're not protecting her. You're only punishing her for my mistakes and for Sydney's."_

Vaughn wore a defensive, protective look that told Jack he wasn't getting through the door without an explanation for his sudden presence. 

_"I don't want to repeat the same mistakes."_

Vaughn's face had softened instantly. He nodded and walked into the room and Jack followed. The girl in the bed was more alert than Jack had expected for a child with a concussion. She'd looked at him curiously. 

_"Taryn, this is your grandfather."_

She'd clung to her father. She wasn't up to meeting new family members. But the exhausted look his son-in-law wore kept Jack from leaving the hospital. Vaughn was able to grab several hours sleep knowing someone was watching over Taryn. He was reminded of how he had felt the time Sydney had broken her leg when she was five years old. Sydney had come home with her cast and he had stayed beside her bed and read to her. 

He realized how long it had been since he'd truly thought about Sydney. Not the spy. Not the woman. His daughter, Sydney. His chest literally ached. For two days after the visit, he thought there was no way he could spend time with Vaughn and Taryn ever again. But as he looked at the picture of the smiling seven-year-old beside his favorite chair, his chest ached again, with a need to see her. 

He was on the Vaughns' doorstep with a carton of ice cream the next day. Taryn studied him like he was out of place. She accepted the ice cream politely, but lapsed into silence when Vaughn disappeared into the kitchen to get bowls and spoons. 

_"Ice cream was always one of your mother's favorite things to eat," Jack explained, not liking the silence between him and his granddaughter. _

Her brown eyes lit up as if he had given her a most precious gift. She grinned, and when her father returned ate two bowlfuls. 

When it had been time for him to leave, Taryn seemed disappointed. She asked him to visit again soon. He waited a week before doing so. She wasn't shy that visit. She asked him every question that came to her mind, wanting to know everything about him. She gave him a farewell hug at the end of that visit. He actually began to feel like the grandfather title actually fit in him in someway. She seemed very adult in many ways, but as he got to know her better, he realized how much she was an insecure child. While his normal serious expression didn't bother her, she took immediate notice to whenever he seemed displeased. 

Jack fixed up a room in his house so Taryn could visit whenever she wanted. She had her own bedroom and spent the night whenever she could. When there, she would cautiously ask him questions about her mother. Jack abided by Vaughn's decisions regarding what to leave out of any information Taryn was given about Sydney. But whenever possible, Jack would tell Taryn as much as he could. Not about the spy, not about the woman, but his daughter, Sydney. She was mesmerized by his stories. His memories. 

He thought she was contented with the stories until one day when he found her snooping through his study. She quickly tucked something behind her back when he caught her. She knew she wasn't allowed in his study. He demanded to know what she was doing. 

_"Grandpa, please don't hate me." _

"What did you find?" 

She held the picture out to him slowly. "Is this my mother?" 

Taryn had indeed located a picture of him holding Sydney, six-years-old, on his shoulders. She wore a bright smile and her hair was in pigtails. 

He nodded. "Yes." 

Taryn turned the picture back towards herself and studied it. "Do you miss her?" she asked, softly. 

"Every day." 

Jack let Taryn have the photograph. Vaughn hadn't been pleased. 

_"She needs to know who she is and where she came from." _

"She needs to stop focusing on the past!" he said angrily, glancing out the front door to where his daughter was waiting by the car. 

"It would seem, Vaughn, that even you are unable to do that. Why should you expect her to?" 

Vaughn walked back to the car. 

Taryn was hugging the picture to her chest with a defiant look on her face. "Daddy, please don't be angry." 

"Get in the car, Taryn." 

The matter was forgotten rather than resolved--as most disagreements between Jack and Vaughn were. But upon Jack's next visit to the house, the picture of him and Sydney had found a frame and been placed on the nightstand beside Taryn's bed. It reminded him of how Sydney had clung to photographs of her own mother following Laura's "death". It was the first time he was truly upset with Sydney. For damaging her daughter, the same way her mother had damaged her. For leaving her to carry the insecurity that went with knowing anyone, even her own parents could disappear and leave her behind. She could be angry when she was having a good day. 

_And she could be lonely, even when surrounded by people that loved her._

Jack realized Vaughn had to live with that truth everyday. So he wasn't surprised by Vaughn's reaction to Sydney turning herself in. Jack had been privy to the CIA briefing as Kendall thought his insight on the situation might be useful. 

_"You could lock her up and throw away the key," Vaughn suggested, bitterly. "There's no reason to even be discussing this. We can't trust her. It's history repeating itself. She's a traitor to this country and likely her only reason for being here is to get something she wants from us." _

"She's also still your wife." 

"And I'll resign before I become a pawn in whatever game she's come back to play." Vaughn had shot Kendall a pointed look. 

"Jack." Irina's voice gently pushed into his thoughts. It was the inviting call she had used to gently wake him from sleep early in their marriage. "What happened when you went to see her?" 

He couldn't explain. He didn't have the words to describe the strange feeling as he'd had the cell opened so he could step inside. Sydney had looked back at him expectantly. He wanted to be angry with her but found he didn't have the strength. 

_She looked him in the eye, her head tilted. She looked like just like her mother. Confident and dangerous. _

"Sydney...." He couldn't finish his thought. Instead, he blinked back tears. 

She swallowed and melted. She looked just like her daughter. Lost and lonely. 

"Daddy?" 

He moved forward and embraced her. She hugged him back. Killing the lost eight years. 

And then he had whispered, so the cameras monitoring couldn't hear. 

_"I'm glad you're home."_

To Sydney. Not the spy, not the traitor. 

_But to his little girl._


	3. Tears of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Maybe being normal drove her insane..._  
Third in the **Cry of Orphans** series.  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_This one's for Liv, for listening to me ramble and for so willingly betaing after midnight._  
  
**TEARS OF ORPHANS**  
by Aliasscape  
Copyright 2003  


No one was happy to see her. 

This was no surprise. She'd have found that even more difficult to take. They had all found it much easier to toss around rumors in her absence. 

_"She's a traitor."_

Or for those who couldn't believe that. 

_"She's dead."_

To have her there to deal with was just overwhelming. So they had to protect themselves with metal and glass. She held the semblance of a grin as she was walked into the glass cage that had once contained her mother. If there was anything she had learned all those years ago, it was that metal and glass were nowhere near as powerful as history. And she had history with nearly every one here. She may be the one behind glass, but they were all _her_ prisoners. 

She was so familiar with the cell that it almost made her feel comfortable. She used to come here when she felt the need to be close to her mother. It was odd how she could feel more at home in a cell than she had in her last decade of freedom. Not that it had ever truly felt like freedom. 

Her father's visit she had expected. But she was pleasantly surprised by her second guest. Even more surprised that he was wearing a suit. He had the inquisitive look he'd almost always had back when he was a reporter. Then, after he'd stared at her a moment, his face faded into a look of contrition. 

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. 

Her eyebrow arched. 

"You tried to tell me. I should have seen it--this...coming." He sunk into the chair outside the cell. 

"Don't, Will." 

Will frowned. "Look at where you are, Sydney!" 

She flinched at her name. She didn't have to look. She was familiar with the cell. And maybe, after the things she'd done, the person she'd become, she deserved to be in it. 

"And Taryn--" 

"This isn't about Taryn," Sydney interjected. 

Will looked confused. "But I heard, about you...You went to the park." 

"I went to the park to see her. I'm not here because of her." 

Will looked down. "At least, you've seen her." 

Sydney looked at him, expectantly. "Why are you here, Will?" 

Will nodded slowly, knowing he was supposed to change the subject but not ready to. Softly, he said, "She's amazing." 

"I'm sure she is," Sydney said, coldly. 

"When I heard about you, in the park, I remembered those times we used to spend in the park," Will stated. He swallowed. "Before." 

Sydney turned away from the glass. There was a time when she could have told him anything. 

_"I'm pregnant, Will." _

"Seriously? Wow, Syd, that's so wonder--it is wonderful, isn't it? Are you okay? Doesn't Vaughn want--" 

"Of course he does. He's thrilled." 

"And you, how do you feel?" 

"So far, all it's done is make me sick. But I'm sure once I get over that in a couple months, I'll be thrilled too." 

But she wasn't. She fell into the routine of pregnancy rather than the thrill. She took the vitamins, went to the checkups, read the books, watched the videos. But deep inside it always felt so surreal. She would have dreams that she wasn't pregnant, only to wake up and see her own belly. But it still didn't seem like the bulge was truly going to become a brand new person. Vaughn spoke to her stomach, read to it, sang to it. She didn't protest. He enjoyed it so much. But she didn't join in either. 

She had found it uncomfortable, even embarrassing, to have complete strangers come up to her and touch her stomach. They'd ask how far along she was, how she was feeling, what she was having, and what she was going to name it. 

_"Do you want to know the gender of the baby?" the doctor asked, with a secretive smile. _

"No, that's okay," Sydney responded. 

Vaughn wrinkled his brow in confusion. "We've been calling the baby an "it" for months." He gave her a pleading look. 

She forced a smile and nodded to the doctor. "Okay," she whispered. The exact same "okay" she'd whispered to Vaughn when she'd agreed to have a baby. 

The doctor smiled wider. "Alright, you can start calling it, a her. Looks like you're having a very healthy little girl." 

A healthy little girl determined to kick her way out, Sydney soon realized. 

Armed with a gender, Vaughn helped her finish decorating the nursery and began to assail her with two new name options a day. A name seemed impossible to choose for a person that didn't quite exist yet. 

_"Sydney, please. You've said 'maybe' to nearly every name. You need to think more seriously about this!" _

"I have three months to go, Michael. We don't have to name it right this second." 

Vaughn stared at her and frowned. "Name her," he corrected. "Name her." 

She had consciously realized her mistake. She hated how upset he had looked and made an effort never to call the baby "it" again. The bulge was a her now. Vaughn wouldn't have it called anything else. 

Sydney got used to being tired all the time, to being hungry all the time. She wasn't sure if it was the supposed joy of motherhood masking the discomfort, or if a decade as a spy allowed her to handle it in the mindset of short term torture. 

There were things she liked about being pregnant. Mostly the way Vaughn did his best to find ways to make her still feel loved, appreciated, beautiful. Surprise flowers, dinners, massages. More than anything she loved the way he looked at her. She'd be reading, or cooking, or exercising and catch him just staring at her in a way he never had before. Apparently the way a man stared at a woman who was about to be the mother of his first child. It was look of love and wonder. Often she'd abandon what she was doing and crawl into his arms. They would always have the same conversation. 

_"Tell me this is all going to be alright." _

"It's going to be perfect," he assured her. 

If he had been able to convince her, then maybe she would have been able to stop asking. 

The baby came almost three weeks early. They'd thought it was another false alarm. They'd already had two which had sent them promptly to the hospital. They waited to see if the contractions would go away but they didn't. The doctors were unconcerned. 

_"Three weeks isn't really that early. She weighs enough to be out of any real danger."_

But three weeks definitely seemed early for Sydney. She'd expected to be confined to bed rest, or to undergo some kind of procedure to bring the whole thing to a halt for a couple of weeks. Anything to give her more time to prepare. Instead, she found motherhood began with pain and exhaustion and terror. 

The labor finally ended, but she lived a lifetime in a near two minutes that the baby didn't cry. Two minutes in which she undecorated a baby's room to bare white walls. Two minutes in which she mailed back gifts. Threw away toys. Stood at a grave over a short white casket and convinced herself that it was for the best. That she wasn't ready. That she wouldn't have been good at parenthood. That the world was a horrible and dangerous place and raising a child in this day and age wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. 

It had melted away at the sudden weak cry. Vaughn squeezed her hand in excitement as the doctor approached. She could barely sit up to look at it. So tiny and so upset. The doctor moved to place it in her arms but the terror of previous two minutes had sucked out the only energy she'd had left. She waved a hand in Vaughn's direction and he took the baby, who quieted at the sound of his voice. Sydney laid back and closed her eyes. She fell asleep to Vaughn's voice whispering. 

_"Sydney, she looks so much like you."_

She held her daughter for the first time when she woke up. She expected to be filled with joy by holding her. Instead, she felt frightened. Was she holding her right? The baby protested at first, as if she wasn't. Even when she quieted, nothing about it had felt right. It was like holding anyone's baby. Wasn't it supposed to feel new and different and wonderful? Wasn't meeting her own daughter for the first time face-to-face supposed to be a joyous occasion? 

_She didn't feel joy. She felt empty._

A three-day hospital stay didn't seem long enough when the baby had been born three weeks early. Sydney slept most of the days away, waking to eat, to have a nurse direct her in breast-feeding, to greet visitors. Weiss, Will, her father. They all couldn't wait to hold the baby. She couldn't wait to hand her over. 

They held her with such ease. She'd felt as though she might break her somehow and couldn't relax as long as the baby was in her arms. She wondered if anyone would notice something strange. About her. About the baby. But they only had one question beyond health inquiries. 

_"What's her name?" _

She let Vaughn answer, just as she had let him name the baby. "Taryn. It means young soldier." 

He said it with such pride every time. Why didn't she feel that pride? 

Sydney felt uneasy about going home. Maybe it was nerves over putting a baby in something as deathly as a car. But the unease turned to a sense of dread as they pulled into the driveway of their house. Vaughn insisted he carry the baby carrier into the house. She didn't mind. She felt too drained to carry anything, let alone the baby. She went straight to bed, but barely got more than an hour's sleep before Vaughn woke her to inform her Taryn was hungry. 

Over the next couple days, everything seemed to become increasingly difficult. All she wanted to do was sleep but the baby demanded so much attention, and would hardly sleep an hour at a time. Taryn fussed when Sydney held her and fought against being breast-fed. What hospital nurses and books claimed was a wonderful bonding experience, seemed to be the most stressful part of her day. They had no choice but to go to a doctor for advice. Sydney spoke with him privately for a while, wondering if there was something wrong with Taryn. 

_"There's nothing wrong with this baby."_

The doctor said he could offer her booklets, that she could try putting breast milk in bottles, and to keep trying. She asked him to recommend a formula. They picked up bottles and formula on the way home. Immediately after returning, Vaughn started trying to get Taryn to take a bottle. She wasn't sure how long it took him, she went back to sleep. 

When Taryn awoke in the middle of the night, he was up immediately to feed her. Sydney would wake up, but she wouldn't move at all. Vaughn didn't try to rouse her or ever mention it was her turn. Once in awhile she would get up and check on them. He looked so pleased to have some alone time with Taryn. He always seemed so in tune with the baby. Taryn's cries would jar Sydney's nerves but Vaughn would calmly assess the situation as the baby being too hot, or too cold or something else that was easily taken care of. He was normally correct. 

All Sydney could wonder was what was wrong with her. She was supposed to be this child's mother and she couldn't read her baby at all. She felt useless around it. Taryn would continue to fuss when she responded to the baby's cries for affection. Sydney got used to Vaughn rescuing her, taking Taryn into his arms and quieting her in only a few seconds. But then Vaughn would look at her as if he knew something was wrong. 

_"Are you alright, Syd?"_

His face was so concerned and his voice was always so sincere. She couldn't bear to pain him by complaining about his little princess. If there wasn't anything wrong with the baby, there had to be something wrong with her instead. She went to the doctor and tried to explain her concerns. She tried to describe the feeling of being worried constantly that something was terribly wrong with her or Taryn, or that she was doing something she shouldn't. 

_"It's natural to worry, but this is the healthiest baby I've examined all day. How's your husband been reacting? Anything changed between you two?"_

Sydney had no reason to complain. He'd taken to fatherhood quite naturally. She was thankful for that even though it made her feel worse. He knew she needed regular breaks from Taryn and was more than happy to take the baby with him on errands. He never complained about how often she passed off the excuse of being too tired to do something for Taryn. His first real protest came six weeks later. 

_"You want to go back to work now?!" _

"Summer sessions starting. You have plenty of leave left. I need to get out of this house." 

Or so she had thought. Going back to work was supposed to be an escape, even if she had taken along a recent family photo for the desk in her office. Still, no one at work was going to let her forget she'd just had a baby. There were demands for more pictures. Some sympathy for sleepless nights. Some scrutiny that she was back so soon and wasn't breast-feeding. Some jealousy that Vaughn was so helpful with the baby. Anytime she was truly attempting to focus, her thoughts were immediately brought back to something about Taryn. As she neared the end of the week, she wanted to scream every time someone asked her how she was or how the baby was or what it felt like to finally be a mother. 

_She didn't feel like a mother. She barely felt anything at all._

She told Vaughn that it had simply been too soon and she was still too tired. Going back to bed seemed to be the only defense she had. She would lie there and pretend to be asleep if anyone checked on her. But actually sleeping brought little comfort. She was plagued by recurring dreams she had died in the delivery room. Dreams Taryn had died in the delivery room. She thought about talking to Vaughn, but she knew she was already worrying him. She didn't want to make it worse. Besides, he had Taryn to worry about. 

For him, she kept making an effort. Taking care of Taryn had a routine as well. She knew it both surprised and pleased him to have her handle some of Taryn's needs. Sometimes she could even fool herself into thinking she was okay while she did so. One thing she particularly liked was getting Taryn in the stroller and taking her for a walk to a nearby park. Taryn usually fell asleep on the way. Sydney would take a seat on a bench and observe the other mothers with their children, wondering if she could somehow learn from watching them. 

It was a ridiculous thought that she wanted to call up her mother and ask for advice. Ask her what the first three months of being a mother were supposed to feel like and what she had been like as a baby. Had she been anywhere near as fussy and demanding as Taryn? And if so, how had her own mother been able to handle it? At the same time, how could she possibly trust her mother's advice? She'd hardly been the model parent. 

Sydney had actually gone so far as to ask her father about what she'd been like in babyhood. He had looked serious and uncomfortable when he answered he didn't recall. He had looked so guilty to admit he'd been busy with work much of that year. She was sure he must remember something, but she didn't press the issue. 

She kept to herself in the park, listening to other mothers converse, hoping to hear them reveal something useful. Every once in awhile, someone would notice Taryn and try to strike up a conversation with Sydney. 

_"What an angel. How old is she?" _

"Four months," Sydney responded with a smile. 

"Oh, can I hold her?" 

Sydney hesitated. Taryn had been fussy all morning and she wasn't sure how the baby would take to a stranger. 

"Just for a moment?" the woman pleaded. 

"Okay," Sydney whispered. 

The woman lifted Taryn, immediately cuddling her close. Taryn grinned and kicked her legs, then reached out and swatted at the woman's curly hair. The woman laughed. "Just darling. Here you go." She lowered Taryn back into Sydney's arms and walked away. I

n several moments, Taryn's face puckered and she began to wail. Sydney placed her back in the stroller, but it took the majority of the walk home before Taryn calmed down again. 

Her baby liked a complete stranger better than her. She didn't know what the look on her face had been when she'd returned home, but Vaughn immediately took Taryn and suggested she get some rest. 

She felt so powerless. Like nothing in her life was hers to control anymore. She began to wish she had died in the delivery room, because she felt like an intruder in her house. There were the concerned looks Vaughn would give her when she walked into a room where he was interacting with Taryn. He actually began to help her avoid the baby, sending Taryn off for evenings or even overnight so the two of them could have time together alone. He probably thought it was helping, but it only made her wish that they could be together alone more often. The way they had been before Taryn was born. The way they could be had Taryn never been born. 

She hated herself for thinking that way. Taryn had been born. There was no way to make her unborn. She could never mention thoughts like that to Vaughn. He'd think she was crazy. He'd probably insist she talked to a doctor. She'd thought through that in her head once. If the doctor didn't lock her up, what if they took the baby? Vaughn would never forgive her for that. 

She tried to keep her thoughts more to herself. She'd awaken from nightmares that Taryn was dead, that it was somehow her fault, and hurry to the baby's crib. Taryn would be sleeping so peacefully, and she'd watch her, trying to feel some of that peace. She'd end up in tears, realizing how much she was failing her own child. Taryn deserved to be loved by her own mother. Why couldn't she love her? How could a person barely two feet tall and toothless terrify her more than any mission she'd ever gone on? 

What was worse was she could see her plaguing doubts starting to seriously affect her interactions with Taryn. She knew she couldn't keep it inside forever. Not without truly going crazy. But even when she tried to talk about it, she didn't feel any better. 

_Will bounced the baby on his knee. "I know there's something going on with you, Syd. I just wish I knew what." _

She hesitated. She should have known he would notice. She took a deep breath and finally just said it. "Sometimes I just wish she didn't exist. Sometimes I find myself thinking of ways to make that happen, even what I'd tell Vaughn afterwards." 

"My goodness, Syd, you haven't--" 

"No, of course not." She could see him resisting the urge to check the baby over for bruises. 

"I'm going crazy, Will. She slipped under in the bathtub yesterday and for a second I actually thought about not picking her up. That can't be normal..." She stopped, unable to say any more without crying. 

Will's horrified look dissipated. "It'll be okay, Syd. You'll be okay, you just need more time to get used to this, to her. I'll help you." 

Will thought the best of her. He'd known her for so long. He'd always seen her be able to handle anything. Maybe it wasn't wrong of him to think that she could handle even this. He didn't question her when she'd show up at his house in the middle of the night. She usually didn't stay very long. Sometimes she went to a hotel, or just walked around town. Anything to calm herself. Anything to feel like her world wasn't out of control. 

Time began to race by her with only a few things sticking out in her memory enough to haunt her. Another run-in with a mother at the park. 

_"Stay-at-home-mom?" _

She nodded, carefully, forcing a smile. 

"Blessed curse, isn't it? You don't miss a minute of her life. But at the end of the day, you just want to kill her." 

Sydney decided it was time to go back to work. Taryn was six months old. She knew the decision worried Vaughn, but this time, no one at her job seemed to think it was too soon for her to be back. That she'd had a baby was no longer anything new. No one forced her to talk about it. It was business as usual. And she was able to find a joy in teaching that had been lacking from her life. She welcomed Vaughn's suggestion that they hire a nanny so he could return to work as well. 

She felt the nanny was good with Taryn, but Sydney didn't like for the nanny to be there when she was home. The nanny scrutinized her every interaction with Taryn, reminding her of how clueless she was. Sydney apparently dressed Taryn in too many clothes, or fed her too much or too little. Maybe it was guidance she needed. But as she watched her baby grow closer to the nanny, she couldn't take the advice. Even as her own failings became more evident. 

Sydney left Taryn alone on a couch for barely a minute to grab the phone, came back to find the baby crying and a bruise forming on her forehead from tumbling off. She'd stood there frozen with the phone in hand, watching the baby cry, wondering how she'd let it happen. And it wasn't her worst mistake. 

She would never forget a dinner incident when Taryn was eight months old. They had started letting her try a variety of solid foods. Vaughn had gone into the kitchen to fix himself some seconds. Taryn was in her high chair eating. 

_"I think we should consider taking a family vacation this summer," Vaughn said from the kitchen. _

Sydney looked towards the doorway. "To where?" 

"I don't know. Disneyland?" he said with a laugh, emerging from the kitchen. Then, his eyes widened, and dropped his newly refilled plate. "SYDNEY!" 

Her eyes immediately went to Taryn, whose brown eyes were wide and watering. Her face was turning red. Her mouth was open but she wasn't making any noise. Sydney stared as Vaughn quickly removed his daughter from the high chair. Thoughts collided in her head. Her baby couldn't breathe. Sydney choked on that thought and then she couldn't breathe. She watched in horror and thought about the two minutes in the delivery room. Taryn couldn't breathe. And she couldn't breathe either. 

Vaughn turned the baby downwards and forcefully gave five blows to her back, then turned her over to press on her chest, and checked her mouth to see if the object had come up. He turned her over and gave her another three back blows before there came a cough. He immediately turned her up again as the baby threw up a half of grape and then began scream-crying. He began trying to calm her. 

Sydney stood up and moved forward to try and soothe Taryn as well, but Vaughn glared at her. "You should have been watching her!" he snapped, shouting to be heard over Taryn's cries. 

"I was watching her," she said, defensively. But not well enough. Because she seemed incable of doing anything properly for Taryn. 

"Closely. You have to watch her closely! She could have died, Sydney!" 

She had said nothing. She just backed away to let him get Taryn calmed down. She knew he'd just been as frightened as she had been, but it wasn't like he was wrong. Taryn could have died with her sitting right beside her. The thought terrified her too. She went running that night. Running for hours. Until she could barely breathe. Wishing she could run herself to death and somehow make up for all her crimes as a mother. 

She had considered never going home again. She wished now that she hadn't. That she had left that night. She didn't need any of the clothes or the things she'd packed. She could have called Vaughn and said goodbye. That would have been the best thing to do. But she'd gone home the next day. Gone home for one more month, for one last try. She couldn't even remember how she'd convinced herself to do it at the time. She only knew one thing. 

_She'd gone home. And she'd gone insane._

Vaughn didn't question her when she returned as he normally did when she had disappeared for a night. Several times he seemed to start to apologize to her, but she didn't let him finish. She didn't deserve the apology. He gave up. Things were back to the normal Sydney had come to accept. Days at work. Evenings finding ways to avoid Taryn. Nights trying to still have some type of relationship with her husband. 

Sleep remained far from relaxing. She'd get up in the middle of the night and move to the couch so not to disturb Vaughn's sleep. She knew she was tossing and turning. She'd wake up crying. The nightmares were back and worse. She dreamt of dying, but not in the delivery room anymore. She dreamt of killing herself. With knives. With guns. With pills. She pictured her funeral. And she pictured Vaughn and Taryn better off without her. 

She actually started covertly packing away pieces of her life. But even this action was contradictory. She didn't pack it away as if to give it away. But as if to move it. She didn't want to die. And she didn't want to leave. But she didn't want to feel the way she did. She was tense all the time. Angry with herself all the time. To hear Taryn cry had become nearly unbearable. She couldn't go near her to comfort her. All she wanted to do was break things. She wished there was difficult mission to go on, like when she was in the CIA. Something to do that would give her adrenaline and anger a purpose. Instead, she simply felt like she was waiting to explode. She should have left then. 

But she didn't. 

It was a chilly Saturday in February. Vaughn had to work. She had decided to clean house. She could have called the nanny to look after Taryn, but she hadn't wanted that woman hovering. It was one day. She thought she could handle it. But Taryn woke up fussy that morning. She took her on a morning walk to try and calm her down. Taryn was good for the walk, but as soon as they returned home, Taryn was fussy again. She wanted to get into everything, and cried as if thoroughly insulted at not being able to play with cords and outlets. She wouldn't eat. Sydney rocked her for an hour and the baby didn't ever actually fall asleep. 

She was concerned at first. She checked the baby for signs of illness. But there was no fever. The cries consumed all sounds in the house. Sydney wished she could turn down the volume on her ears. She tried to soothe Taryn with toys and music and television. Taryn's cries got louder. She pushed away as Sydney held her. 

Sydney couldn't believe it when she looked at the clock to realize more than two hours had gone by. She was actually considering calling a doctor, but just as she was certain she might need to, Taryn's cries began to subside. Maybe the baby exhausted herself. Sydney rocked her another ten minutes and Taryn went to sleep. Sydney put Taryn in her crib. She finally turned her attention towards cleaning again. Though by then, Sydney also felt exhausted and hungry. She had laid down on the couch, thinking perhaps an hour nap would help. 

_Her eyes shot open at the sound of scream-crying down the hall. She realized she'd only been lying there twenty minutes. She sat up so quickly, she felt dizzy. Her head ached. What was wrong with Taryn? How could she wake up so soon when she'd been sleeping so soundly? _

Sydney dragged herself off the couch, and stumbled down the hallway to Taryn's bedroom. She walked over to the crib. Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney. Sydney leaned over the crib, rubbing Taryn's belly, trying to give her some kind of comfort. 

"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay," Sydney told the baby. Taryn kicked Sydney's hand away, and flailed her arms, completely angry. "Taryn, you need to calm down," Sydney said more firmly. Her own head ached worse with the cries. Pounded. "Taryn, please...." 

Sydney covered the baby's mouth with hand, but it barely muffled the cry. She stepped back and grabbed a soft white pillow from the nearby rocking chair. It covered Taryn's entire head. The crying was muffled, then turned into a cough. Then, it was silent. Completely silent. Almost thirty seconds of wrongful peace. 

Sydney stared down at the kicking baby legs and arms pushing from beneath the pillow. Taryn couldn't breathe. The baby couldn't breathe. Sydney couldn't breathe. She pulled away the pillow and dropped it on the floor. Taryn started full blown scream-crying again. 

Sydney covered her mouth with her hand to stop a scream of her own. She backed away from the crib, the tears coming down her own face in rivers. She backed all the way out of the nursery, and stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom. One thought replayed in her head over and over. 

She'd almost killed her baby. She'd almost killed_ her baby! _

She ripped open her closet door and pulled out a locked wooden box. She took a key from the pocket of a garment in the closet, opened the box and removed a gun. She walked into the bathroom off the bedroom and closed the door. Air went in and out of her in shuddering deep breaths. Her hands trembled. She looked up at herself in the mirror. Her faced was reddened, the tears kept coming. 

For the best, she thought, lifting the gun towards her temple. For Taryn. For Vaughn. She turned off the safety, finding solace in the cold metal against her hot face, and pounding head. She shut her eyes, no longer wanting to see herself in the mirror. No longer wanting anything but to be dead where she couldn't hurt anyone anymore. She placed her finger on the trigger. 

Taryn's wails from down the hall were the only sound she could hear. Drowning out the sound of her own breathing. Taryn crying in fear, in desperation that someone would hear her, rescue her and make her feel safe again. 

Sydney gasped and opened her eyes. She knew what her baby wanted. For perhaps the first time ever, she knew, without guessing, without a doubt, what she needed to do for Taryn. She lowered the gun, stuffing it into the belt of her pants. She walked back into the baby's room. She lifted Taryn, patted her back and placed her in her baby carrier. Sydney frantically ran about the house, clearing the items she hadn't packed before. Removing the few previous packed boxes to the car. 

Then, she tucked a blanket around the baby to shield her from the cold, and placed her in the car last. Taryn's cries subsided as soon as the car began to move. She was wide-eyed but silent by the time Sydney reached the CIA rotunda. 

The CIA rotunda where Sydney now sat on her bed in a cell. She'd entered the CIA that day trying desperately not to arouse any suspicion. Trying not to give any indication that she'd nearly murdered her child less than an hour before. She looked up at the glass, Will was still looking at her apologetically. 

"I just thought you should know, you _were_ missed. Even if no one's willing to say it right now," he said. 

She stared at him and crossed her arms. 

His blue eyes were so pained. "I know you had your reasons for leaving. Whatever they were, I don't care. I'm just glad you're back. I thought you should, I want you to know that." 

He wouldn't say that if he knew the reasons. She watched him seriously. "I think you should go now." 

Will stood up. "Alright." He nodded to the guard and the gate began to rise. He didn't move for a moment. "Whether you want to admit it or not, I know you missed her." He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and walked away. 

Sydney leaned back on the bed so her back rested up against the cold wall and hugged herself. She closed her eyes and rocked herself ever so slightly. 

_Sydney parked the car in the parking garage. After recording a message on a pen, she turned and lifted the baby from the carrier. She stared into Taryn's wide brown eyes. She counted her fingers, her toes, and nuzzled her nose. Taryn actually grinned her four-tooth smile and giggled. _

Sydney held the baby against her chest and began to whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry, Taryn. I'm so sorry." 

Sydney lowered her cheek against her baby's cheek. She ran her hand across the baby's skin and breathed in the smell of her face. She smoothed the baby's silky brown hair. 

She pulled the baby back from her chest. She lowered the baby back into her carrier, stuffed her cell phone in the bottom compartment. She walked briskly through the rotunda and straight into Vaughn's office. She placed the pen on his desk, put down the baby carrier in front of the desk and leaned over it. Taryn gripped onto her hair. 

"I do love you, Taryn," she whispered. The tears ran down her cheeks again and rained right onto the baby. "I do love you," she said it, again louder. For her benefit as much as her baby's. It felt like the first time she had ever said it. Because it was the first time. 

Sydney planted a kiss on the baby's forehead, then pulled back from the carrier so quickly that she ripped her hair free, leaving strands in Taryn's chubby hand. 

Then, she stood up. Quickly, she hurried out of the office, afraid if she stayed a moment longer she wouldn't be able to leave. She walked briskly through the rotunda and out the door. Away from Taryn, from Vaughn, from the life of Sydney Bristow. She didn't stop crying the entire drive to the airport. 

Sydney stopped rocking and blinked her eyes open. 

The tears formed rivers down her cheeks.   
_____  
Please review :) I'd love to know what you think. 


	4. Family of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.   
SUMMARY: _For those she left behind..._   
Fourth in the Cry of Orphans series. Links to previous stories in my signature.   
RATED PG-13   
GENRE: Angst   
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic   
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive. 

_Now back to your regularly scheduled Sydney-hate fest...._

**FAMILY OF ORPHANS**   
by Aliasscape   
Copyright 2004 

He could barely stand how calm she looked. 

It was how calm she always looked. Since the day in the park. The day she'd broken back into his world, stolen his life away from him, and sent it spiraling out of control. He'd spent every waking moment wishing that day had never happened. That she had never come back. That she was dead. That the ground wasn't crumbling out from beneath him. 

Yet, she stood before him, completely calm. Perhaps, she was even amused by his presence. She approached the glass. She studied him, her eyes lingering on what he clutched fiercely in his hand. 

He'd been foolish to think that behind bars she would actually be rendered defenseless. She was caged, but not contained. Instead, she was proudly on display. An attraction rather than a prisoner. Glass walls stood between them, but nothing could protect him from her. The world revolved around her. 

He couldn't believe there had been a time when he had been content with that. Content to live in her world. Content to love the lethal force of nature who had masqueraded as his wife, then ruined his life. Now he reduced their relationship to two simple facts. 

_He loved her. She killed him. _

He could have forgiven her for that. But he would never forgive what she had thoughtlessly, if not heartlessly, done to the child she'd left behind. To Taryn. To the orphan she'd created. And he swore he would never let Sydney near Taryn again. 

Not after everything they'd been through. 

Sydney had disappeared in the early afternoon that first day. And yet, they were unable to find any useable leads. He stayed at the rotunda waiting for any news until nearly midnight. Sydney had been a spy for almost a decade. He shouldn't have been surprised that she could vanish without a trace in only a few hours. 

_"Take your daughter home, Vaughn. There's nothing more to do tonight." _

A female agent at the rotunda had taken care of the baby all afternoon. Vaughn hadn't wanted her too far out of his sight. He had retrieved Taryn, taken her home and laid the baby in her crib. 

_She cried like she was being murdered. _

He scooped her back into his arms immediately, settling in a rocking chair, turning her to face him on his lap. She quieted and stared back at him. He wrapped her in a blanket and rocked her to sleep in his arms. He didn't sleep, but he didn't put her down. 

He didn't call for the nanny the next morning. He brought her to work with him again. He knew no one else thought that was a good idea. But she was his daughter, and he was her only parent for the time being. And a part of him worried, even if Sydney didn't come back to him, Sydney would come back to her baby. Or rather, come back to take her. 

_"We can have people watch the house, Mike. You don't have to keep bringing her here." _

But Eric was wrong. He did have to. Apart of him did need to have her there. Right beside him where he knew he could protect her, comfort her whenever she needed, and remind himself that he hadn't lost his entire world. He still had Taryn. Despite the nagging thoughts that went with the question he couldn't ask anyone. If he didn't have Taryn--if they had never had Taryn, would he still have Sydney? 

He found himself staring into the wide brown eyes of his baby, wondering. Wondering what had gone wrong. What had driven Sydney away from him? When had he really started to lose her? He retraced the previous days, weeks, and months prior to Sydney's disappearance. The things he'd come to accept as routine from her. 

_"You're home late." _

"I stayed late at work grading papers. I didn't think I'd be able to concentrate here." 

She never graded papers at home as she had before Taryn was born. But that he hadn't questioned. How could one read essays with a baby crying in the background? It made sense. 

_"You missed dinner." _

"I grabbed something on the way home. What's going on?" 

"I was about give Taryn a bath, get her ready for bed." 

"Alright. I'm going to change clothes and take Donavan for a walk." 

She'd walk out the door with the dog on a leash and never be gone less than an hour. He had always appreciated the way she took care of his dog. He hadn't nearly enough time to give the animal attention now that he had a baby. He thought Sydney was being thoughtful, recognizing this and just picking up the slack. But now, he realized, they could have been excuses to get out of the house. Excuses to get away from their baby. Excuses to get away from him? 

The search for Sydney consumed his life. They dug into the family phone records, banking records, insurance, anything anyone could think of. 

_"There was a deposit of $10,000 into your joint account the day of her disappearance. Any ideas why?" _

He questioned himself twice as often as he was actually questioned. About his routines, her routines, his moods, her moods. Jack only ever approached him with accusations that he had somehow driven Sydney away. 

_"Sydney did not pack up and leave for no reason at all. There must have been some indication that she was unhappy." _

And Jack was right. There were indications. Things hadn't been perfect. Vaughn constantly wondered if he could have done more to help her. 

He prayed that he would just get to talk to her. To get her to explain what happened. He'd apologize for not finding her sooner and offer her whatever it was she needed. He wished for a chance to be able to talk to her, just one last time. So he could at least know he'd done everything he could. So that he could know why. 

He hated to recall those first few weeks without her. The emptiness of the house. He had their baby, but the baby couldn't replace adult company. He answered the phone, hoping every time it was Sydney, or at least news _about_ Sydney. It never was. 

_"There was a raid on a museum in Rome. Evidence suggests it was Arvin Sloane." _

He immediately began to look for any hints that Sloane was behind Sydney's disappearance. Perhaps he'd threatened or blackmailed her in someway. But why hadn't she told anyone? Why hadn't she gone to the CIA for protection? Why run away? To protect him? The baby? Why was she always so against asking for help? Maybe there hadn't been time. Maybe Sloane's people had made Sydney disappear. Vaughn swore he was going to find her, rescue her, bring her back. 

With agents watching the house, Vaughn allowed the nanny to resume care of Taryn. Vaughn went after every lead that was even remotely tied to Sloane. He took teams a7nd raided old airstrips, warehouses, labs, and compounds. He kept expecting to find Sydney locked in a room someplace within. He feared it as well. Every time he didn't find her, he was left to wonder if perhaps he was too late. Left to wonder if his wife was already dead somewhere. 

_"You can't keep going like this, Mike," Weiss told him. "You spend your every waking moment searching for her. You've gotta take care of yourself." _

"If I stop searching, I have to let her go. I can't do that." 

Not when he had this aching feeling that wherever she was, she was not okay. How could he face his daughter when she got old enough to ask questions about what happened to her mother if he hadn't made his every effort to find her? 

Four months passed. He could barely remember them. He spent them out of the country, following possible leads on Sydney's whereabouts. 

_"This just came in. Surveillance footage from a bank in Switzerland." _

Even with the grainy blue of the picture it wasn't hard to spot one blond assassin withdrawing funds. 

Maybe it wasn't Sloane they should have been looking for. The second he saw the footage, his mind immediately connected Sark to Irina. It couldn't a coincidence that they had suddenly resurfaced as well. Unfortunately, the CIA had little information on her organization. Not their compounds or their operatives. Refocusing the search on her meant starting from scratch. It meant more time raiding abandoned compounds and meeting informants, paying them more money for less information. 

_It meant more time away from Taryn. _

He would come home and she'd grasp onto his leg and cry because she was so happy to see him. He would take her into his arms and hold her and rock her. Anything to reassure her. She was easier to calm down each time. He'd thought that was a good thing. That she was realizing that even though he went away that he'd always come back. 

Six months escaped him. Leads were drying up. Threats were emerging that the CIA thought more important than searching for Derevko. He continued his search with the limited number of agents he was given. But then the reports came. 

_"Derevko has a new protégé." _

Reports were sketchy at best. A female in her mid-thirties. The hair and eye color couldn't be confirmed. She seemed a representative according to the informants. A negotiator. A courier. Never appearing with less than three guards by her side. But whether she was in control of the guards, or the guards were in control of her was never clear. 

_"We have to rescue her." _

"Maybe she doesn't need to be rescued. Maybe she needs you to let her go." 

He refused to believe that. He threw himself into the search all the more so. He tried to learn all he could about this protégé. He wanted confirmation that it was Sydney, or rather confirmation that it wasn't. He couldn't have lost Sydney. Not to her mother. Not to the woman who had abandoned her when she was six years old. Not to the woman who had killed his father! Why would she abandon him for the woman her had abandoned her? How could she? 

_"She wanted justice." _

"She wanted a mother." 

For the first time since her disappearance, he was actually angry with her. For choosing her mother over him. For choosing to run away from her life, her responsibilities, her baby. He went home that night. It'd been almost a week since he'd been home. He opened the door, ready to wrap his arms around his daughter but she didn't come to the door as he had expected. He found her in her bedroom, engaged in looking at a picture book. He gave her a hug and kiss, and she never stopped flipping the pages of the book. He got the horrible feeling that he'd lost something he was never going to be able to get back. He turned to the nanny but she didn't seem the least bit surprised. She spoke before he could. 

_"You can look for your wife, or you can raise your daughter. One or the other." _

Her words burned into his ears. He'd spent far more time with Taryn before Sydney's disappearance. Now, when his daughter needed him most, when she was adjusting to losing her mother, he was making her grow up without a father too. 

He turned in his resignation the next day. 

_"You're sure you don't want to think about this a few days?" Devlin asked. _

"There's nothing to think about, sir. I'm not going to change my mind." 

Weiss was the only one truly supportive of his decision. He'd helped Vaughn clean out his desk and carry his belongings to the car. 

_"I'll come by. We'll take Taryn to the zoo or something." _

Vaughn smiled. "She'd like that." 

He'd left the CIA that day with no regrets. With a clear idea of what he was going to do with his life. With his daughter's life. A life that would no longer be centered on Sydney. Boxing up the remnants of his life with her was easier than it should have been. Protecting Taryn took precedence over _things_ left behind by a woman that who had abandoned her family. He didn't fight with Jack Bristow when it was obvious he was dropping out of Taryn's life. He had thought life might even be easier without Jack's blame and constant scrutiny. 

Vaughn knew he was far too indulgent those first couple of years. He couldn't take her with him to the store without returning with whatever object or cereal the child had wanted. The nanny thought he was overcompensating for the year he had missed much of. But the truth was, he just couldn't bear it to hear his daughter cry. 

Perhaps it wasn't exactly his fault alone. Weiss and Will were always buying Taryn gifts and sweets. And they were always suggesting that Vaughn take her to the park or the zoo. He enjoyed taking her but it worried him how independent and fearless Taryn was. He found himself constantly scolding her for chattering to strangers and wandering away. 

_"You're overprotective of her, Vaughn," Weiss told him one evening. "You hardly let her go anywhere without you." _

"She's four years old. Why on earth would she being going places alone?" 

"I didn't say alone, Vaughn. I said, without you. I don't know the last time you let me take her anywhere alone, even if only for a couple hours. What are you going to do when she starts school next year?" 

Vaughn hadn't had a response. He'd simply gone about his routine. 

He tucked Taryn into bed each night, and read her a story. She'd hug her favorite stuffed fox close and listen intently. Though after turning four, she started to interrupt him with questions. 

_ "...After the death of his wife, Cinderella's father was very sad, but he took comfort in raising his daughter and eventually he married again...." _

"Daddy?" Taryn interrupted. "Did my Mommy die like Cinderella's Mommy?" 

Vaughn swallowed, forcing himself not to frown, but he couldn't help the downcast expression that clouded his face. He was awkwardly silent a moment. "No, Taryn. She didn't--" 

"Then, why don't I have a Mommy?" Taryn inquired, her brown eyes watching him seriously. 

Vaughn closed the book and sighed. "There are different kinds of families, Taryn. Some with two parents and some with just a mommy, or just a daddy. Some with lots of kids, or just one." He pulled her close to him and kissed the top of her head. "I love you very much, Taryn. You know that." 

Taryn grinned. "I love you too, Daddy. And you do everything, I don't even need a mommy." 

He had smiled at the confidence with which Taryn had said the words. He wished every conversation he'd had with Taryn about her mother had been able to go that smoothly. It had been able to give him hope that the fact that his daughter was motherless wasn't going to seriously affect her. 

But she was a very sensitive child. And the scars of having lost a parent began to affect everything about her. He'd never forget the look on the face of the five year old when he'd had to inform her that the dog had died. 

_"But...why?" she'd wailed, her questioning eyes full of tears. "What did I do?" _

"Nothing, Taryn. You didn't do anything wrong. He was just old." He'd tried to pull her into his arms. "Maybe we can get a new dog. A puppy." 

She'd wriggled out of his arms and looked at him with cold eyes. "I don't want a new dog! I want Donovan back." 

He had sighed. "You can't ever have him back, Princess." 

Taryn had run into her bedroom and slammed the door. She moped around for days, eating very little. She clung to the pictures she had of the dog. She wouldn't let him put away the dog bowls or throw out the dog food. She kept his leash, collar and tags in her bedroom. He'd wake up in the middle of the night and she'd be standing at the foot of his bed, just watching him. When he moved, she'd run back to her bed and pull the covers over her head. But if when he went to her room to check on her, she wouldn't talk to him and she wouldn't let him hold her. 

He felt so helpless. He waited almost a month before he finally found a puppy of the same breed and brought it home. He called Taryn in to see it. 

_"That's not Donovan," she told him. _

He kept the puppy two weeks. Taryn wouldn't touch it, wouldn't play with it or feed it. She refused to name it. He ended up giving it away. 

_"You can't replace it. Something she loved has disappeared. It's her first real loss," Will decided. _

"Not her first," Vaughn countered. 

"You're right." Will was quiet a moment. "But now, for the first time, she gets to feel it." 

He was so used to looking forward to firsts. First smile, first tooth, first word, first step. Suddenly now, he feared her firsts. First broken bone. First cavity. Her next first descended on them like the fall of night. First day of school. 

_"I'll see you after school, Taryn." _

She didn't even look up at him. He knelt down expecting to see tears in her eyes. There were none. When he wrapped his arms around her to hug her goodbye, she stiffened. She backed away as soon as he let her go. He decided it was probably better not to make a big deal out of leaving. He waved. She didn't wave back. She stared at him, looking betrayed and alone. 

When he came into the classroom at the end of the day, she was curled up in a chair. The teacher told him she'd curled up in a corner and cried silently the second he had left. They'd been unable to find anything to comfort her. 

_He picked her up. _

"I missed you," he whispered in her ear as he carried her from the school to the car. 

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face. "Please. Please don't leave me there ever again." 

He knew he couldn't make such a promise, but he couldn't tell her that. So he'd comforted her with an ice cream cone and visit to the park to feed ducks. He tucked her into bed that night, but when he mentioned school, he watched her face cloud over and her eyes turn cold. She wriggled away when he tried to kiss her goodnight. 

He didn't sleep that night. He spent the time wondering if she would ever trust him again. 

Taryn's attitude towards school improved, but he wasn't sure if she ever actually adjusted to being there. Her teacher confirmed that at his first conference. 

_"Taryn's a bright child, perhaps one of the brightest in the class. But I'm worried that she's not making friends. Three months and she still keeps very much to herself. The other kids do try to include her, but Taryn can be very confrontational." _

Vaughn didn't know what to do when he began getting reports that his kindergartener was getting into fights with her classmates. 

_"Why, Taryn? What are you fighting about?" _

The five-year-old refused to even look at him. 

He knelt down to her height and turned her towards him "Look at me. Talk to me. There is no excuse for you to behave this way. No fighting, Taryn. Do you understand?" 

All he was able to get out of her was a half-hearted nod, so he wasn't surprised that the reports didn't stop. The look in her eyes as he'd question her about the incidents was a mixture of sad and angry. But her answer as to why was always the same. 

_"I don't know. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me." _

She would fold her arms hugging herself, and respond stiffly to his hugs and reassurances that there was nothing she could ever do to make him hate her. He was certain she was truly sorry, every time. If not for fighting, for disappointing him. He knew he should scold her further, but he could rarely bring himself to do it. She would crush so immediately and completely and would refuse to be consoled. And she seemed so sensitive that she would do anything to avoid his disapproval. 

_He knelt down and lifted the tablecloth on the dining room table. "Taryn, why are you hiding?" _

Taryn stared into her lap. "I got scared, so I hid." 

He pulled her out and into his arms. "Do you have any idea how much it scares me not to know where you are? Even for a second?" 

"I'm sorry." She hugged him carefully. "I'm glad you came to find me." She pulled back from the hug and he watched a serious look form on the five-year-old's face. "Daddy? Maybe Mommy's hiding, cause she was scared like me. Maybe you need to find her." 

He added an ability to catch him completely off guard to his daughter's list of superpowers. He couldn't get her to reveal what had brought her mother into her thoughts. A blank piece of paper was sent home from school the next day. A teacher's handwriting told him that the assignment had been to make a picture of her mother. 

Vaughn couldn't have been more thankful when summer vacation came. He thought if he could just love Taryn enough it would solve everything. More attention, more quality time. More reassurances of love. Hugs, kisses and surrounding her with people that loved her. He thought he suceeded. The summer passed without incident. 

He hoped a new school year would mean a better school year. At first, he thought it was. He took up a position teaching French at a local college to have something to do with the time that he used to fill with nothing but Taryn. For almost two months, there were no reports from the school, and then he got a phone call ordering him to a teacher's conference. A child's nose was broken. Taryn was expelled. 

_"You can find another school that'll take her," Weiss assured him. _

"I'm not going to look. I'm not going to put her through that. I'll home school her myself." 

Taryn was a fast learner, and he enjoyed the time they got to spend with just the two of them. But while he could be assured she was learning, he was still concerned about her lack of social interactions with kids her own age. He was also still concerned with how she handled frustration, any time she didn't catch onto a new learning concept right away. It was always physically tearing up her homework, flinging her pencils across the room, or kicking walls. He'd tell her to stop and she'd ball her little hands into fists, holding them rigidly at her side, breathing in and out as if she'd explode if she didn't. 

_ "It's okay, Taryn." _

But it wasn't. 

He realized how much he truly didn't know his daughter. Sometimes he'd find her in her bedroom, curled up and in tears. He couldn't get her to talk about what made her cry. Other times he'd awaken her from a nightmare. She'd wrap her arms around him and sob into his chest. 

_ "I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you! Don't ever leave me, Daddy! Please don't ever leave." _

He assured her that he wouldn't, but he hated her terror. He hated that she was constantly worried that he was going to disappear and leave her behind somehow. He finally sought professional help, putting his daughter in therapy. The therapist seemed to find the obvious at first. 

_"Taryn has a lot of repressed anger." _

He also learned things he hadn't expected. The therapist asked him to come in and hear a recording she'd gotten Taryn's permission to share with him. The words on the tape stunned him. 

_"I make my Daddy sad." _

The therapist stopped the tape and Vaughn looked at her. "Why would she say that?" he wondered. 

The therapist had tilted her head. "Is it true?" 

He had responded with a negative but with his focus solely on Taryn, it had been impossible not to notice how much she resembled her mother. Little things, the way she spoke, the way she'd tuck her hair behind her ear. Sometimes he'd see her curled up in her bed with a journal book Will had given her and the lighting would catch her perfectly to make her profile look like Sydney's. For a moment, he'd let himself miss Sydney. Then, he'd turned away, unable to keep watching her for fear he'd start to cry. 

He didn't blame Taryn. He blamed his own memories. 

_He blamed Sydney. _

But there was no way to explain that to Taryn. He knew he left her confused so many times. 

_ "Taryn, where did you get that pen?" _

"In your room. You never use it." 

"Give it to me," he ordered. 

She handed it to him immediately. 

"I don't want you to ever touch it again. Do you understand?" 

She stared at him with wide brown eyes. Confusion so obvious on her face, but she nodded. 

He detailed the event to Weiss the next day. Weiss had given him a shocked look. 

_ "You kept the pen recording?" _

"It may have been the last thing I ever heard from my wife. I wasn't going to erase it." 

More truthfully, he couldn't erase it. At first he had listened to it over and over again, looking for there to be a hidden message in Sydney's words. Then, he listened trying to decipher from her words and tone, the true reason behind her leaving. 

_And sometimes he listened just to hear her voice. _

The therapist didn't seem to believe his decision to keep information about his wife to a minimum was a protection to his daughter. 

_"I don't think you realize everything your daughter has lost by not having a mother, by not knowing a thing about her. Taryn is missing half of who is. It's information that she very much wants. And she can't help but feel angry, because she knows that you are keeping that information specifically from her." _

He knew the therapist firmly believed what she was saying, but she had no idea what she was talking about. He couldn't give Taryn any more information about Sydney. It just wasn't safe. He tried to steer the conversation back towards the issues that worried him. Such as that Taryn still didn't have any friends her own age. 

_"Get her involved in activities where she can interact with other children." _

Sports seemed like the perfect solution. Teamwork and lots of kids. Though knowing his daughter's temper, Vaughn refused to allow her into any sport with a bats or sticks. Soccer was the sport they both agreed on. She enjoyed playing it, and he enjoyed watching her play it. She became a goalie and within the first couple of weeks made a new friend. 

_ "Her name is Lila, Daddy! And she said I can come to her house and her mom will make us cookies!" _

Lila Ramirez was a Hispanic girl, a year older than Taryn. Lila was a shyer child than Taryn, but very polite. Lila's father had died when Lila was a baby. Her mother, Sofia, coached the team. Vaughn had been able to observe the girls together, playing soccer, at practices. He was pleased that Sofia was more than happy to welcome Taryn into her home and returned the favor. After a few visits, Lila and Taryn began spending the night at each other's houses, it seemed the two of them had become inseparable. 

Vaughn began to feel like he was the father of two daughters, if Taryn and Lila were at his house, or none at all when Taryn and Lila were at Lila's house. And yet, it was comforting how normal it was to have his house filled with giggles and girls decorating cookies and cupcakes and with chauffeuring to soccer practices and ice cream shops. Taryn and Lila's friendship added a whole new dimension to his life and it seemed to partially fill a void in Taryn's. He was comforted that Taryn had Lila's mother as a maternal figure in her life. Even if it did bring up the mother issue more often between them. 

_ "Lila's mommy has pictures of her Daddy all over. She gets to have a picture of him and her together right beside her bed. And her Mommy tells her stories about what he was like. Why can't I have a picture of my mommy?" _

"Because Lila's mommy decides what's best for Lila, and I decide to what's best for you." 

"It's not fair!" Taryn stomped off to her room and slammed the door. 

He'd sunk into a chair. Taryn was right. It wasn't fair. And he realized that Taryn's friendship with Lila and her mother was not going to make their lives any more normal. 

Taryn went to Lila's house for a slumber party only to have Mrs. Ramirez call him in the middle of the night telling him he needed to come and get her. 

_ "She's locked herself in the bathroom and refuses to let anyone in." Mrs. Ramirez led the way to the bathroom. _

"Taryn, it's Daddy. What's the matter?" 

He got sniffles in response but the door didn't open. He looked to Lila. "What happened just before she went in there?" 

Lila shrugged, sheepishly. "We were having a pillow fight. And she fell down and someone hit her with a pillow and then she ran into the bathroom and wouldn't come out." 

Mrs. Ramirez guided Lila back to the group, leaving Vaughn at the door alone. "Taryn, let me in," he called. 

"No." 

"Taryn, don't make me pick this lock." 

Hesitantly, his daughter opened the door and he stepped inside. She was drying her eyes with tissues, but she was trembling. "What happened?" He took her into his arms. 

"I want to go home," she told him. 

"We'll go home," he assured her. "Just tell me what upset you." 

The little girl shrugged. "I just want to go home now." 

It wasn't something Taryn would ever talk about. To bring it up upset her so much that Vaughn let it go. Her therapist admitted Taryn didn't seem to know what had upset her anymore than they did. 

It didn't ever happen again. Taryn went to Lila's for more slumber parties and survived them without incident. Again, he found himself hoping for more normal to their lives. He relaxed enough to enjoy being a father. 

_"Look, Daddy! I'm a princess." _

And she was his princess. His wild princess. She always would be. 

_"Look, Daddy! I'm a ballerina." _

And she'd dance for him. 

_"Don't look, Daddy! I'm a spy!" _

And his heart slammed into his ears. She would hide in the trees and bushes and stalk around the backyard. She'd sneak from table to chair around the living room. Peek out from behind the couch with a toy telescope. A pocket tape recorder in hand she'd record private conversations. And he'd wish she'd pretend to be anything else. A teacher, a doctor, a veterinarian. She was in giggles over her newest game. 

_And he was in terror, watching her play out his greatest fear. _

"Go to your room, Taryn." 

"But Daddy-" 

"Now." 

She was not going to have anything to do with the spy life, not even for pretend. Taryn was not going to be a spy. Nor was she going to be entertained by books, movies or TV shows about them. 

_"She's so stubborn," Vaughn told Will one afternoon as they watched one of Taryn's soccer practices. _

"Sounds like someone we used to know," Will laughed. 

"She's more like her everyday." 

"She definitely looks more like her," Will agreed. 

"It's not just that. She talks on the phone to my mother in perfect French. In this past year, with all the time she's been spending with Lila, she's picking up Spanish. I've been teaching her to shoot back in the woods behind the house, and her aim gets better and better." 

"What'd you expect?" Will laughed. "She has you and Sydney as parents. She was born to be a spy." 

Vaughn watched his seven-year-old kick give the ball an aggressive kick away from the goal and halfway across the field. "No, she wasn't." 

But Taryn did everything possible to prove him wrong. 

_"Where's Taryn?" Weiss inquired. _

"Lila's mother is spoiling the two of them rotten with some girl's only pizza party. A sort of pre-game celebration." 

"House is quiet without her," Weiss noted. 

"It is. I'm actually starting to enjoy these little breaks from her." 

Weiss gave him a wide-eyed look. "Feeling alright, Mike?" 

Vaughn sunk onto the couch. "Just tired..." He sighed and more honestly continued, "Just lately, whenever Taryn's around it's impossible not to think of...." He trailed off. 

"I know," Weiss answered, sitting down in a chair. 

"She's just so much like her, Eric. More like her everyday. The things I loved about her and...her flaws. When Taryn gets upset, she can't talk to me. She's too worried about upsetting me if she does. And I think, if I could go back in time, if I could have realized that about her mother, and we'd talked things through, maybe she would have told me that having a baby wasn't something she wanted at the time. I think I could have respected that." 

"But Mike, if you'd done that, Taryn might not even exist now." 

"I know." Vaughn fell silent. But he'd still have Sydney. 

And Sydney was more than he could have ever wanted. 

Taryn arrived home from her pizza party hours later. She told him how excited she was about the upcoming game. He'd tucked her into bed. They'd gone to a soccer game the following the day, and Taryn's team unfortunately lost. Taryn had seemed more crushed than usual about a bad game, moped around the rest of the day and gone to bed early. 

He thought she was tired and let her sleep in late the next morning. But finally around 11am he'd gone to wake her. The bed was empty, nothing but pillows and rolled up blankets. 

_Taryn was gone. _

Even with no signs of a struggle, his mind immediately went to the worst thoughts. Who could have taken her? Why? How had they gotten past the security system? His mind ran through the possibilities. Random robbers or kidnappers he dismissed quickly. Was it Sloane, Sark, or Derevko? Enemies of his? Enemies of Sydney's? Or the worst possibility of all. 

_What if it was Sydney herself? _

He called Weiss and Will and they conducted a thorough search of the house and the woods behind it. But why would Taryn run away? 

_ "Sure they lost a game but we've talked about that before. She knows sports aren't just about winning. She was upset but, they've lost games before. What's different this time?" _

Weiss looked at him and debated. "Have you called Lila and her mother? Maybe Taryn went there or told Lila something?" 

Mrs. Ramirez was more than happy to let Vaughn talk to Lila when she heard of the situation. But the eight-year-old didn't want to talk to him at all. 

_"Please, Lila. If Taryn told you anything, I need to know. What did she say? Was she upset about losing the game?" _

Lila looked up at him incredulously. "She didn't care about the stupid game!" 

Vaughn sat up straighter. "Then, what was it?" 

Lila crossed her arms across her chest, frowning. "She knows you hate her!" 

"Lila, what are you talking about? I love Taryn." 

"No, you don't! She knows you wish she was never born!" 

"Lila, what do you mean? I never said that." 

"We heard you talking. Taryn set up her tape recorder in the living room and we got the tape yesterday. We heard you tell Eric. That's why she left!" Lila hopped off her living room couch and ran to the doorway where her mother stood. 

Vaughn moved to follow and knelt down. "Lila, I know what you think you heard, but you misunderstood. I love Taryn very much, and I want her to come home where she's safe. I need you to tell me if you know where she went." 

Lila frowned at him. "She ran away." 

"But where, Lila?" Mrs. Ramirez questioned. 

Lila gave him a defiant look, but at her mother's urging finally answered, "The backyard." 

Vaughn had taken off to the backyard and found Taryn asleep in Lila's tree house. He sighed, took her into her arms and just hugged her. She stirred, blinked her eyes opened and looked at him. 

_"What are you doing here?" she asked. _

"I was worried about you." 

She frowned. "No you weren't." 

"You really scared me today, Taryn. I thought I'd lost you." 

Taryn wriggled out of his arms. 

"No, Taryn, listen." He turned her back to face him. "I mean that. I don't want to lose you. I don't know what you think you heard, but whatever it was, I'm sorry that it made you think I didn't want you. You are the most important person in the world to me." 

She looked down and said nothing. 

He sighed. "Let's go home, Taryn." 

She had gathered her things and come down from the tree, but he couldn't help but think it was really for lack of other options more than any desire to return home. The car ride home was silent. Taryn holed up in her bedroom the second they got back to the house. She refused meals or to talk to him. He had to leave her alone. There was nothing else he could do. He had hurt her. He loved her more than anything, and he had hurt her. What could he say or do to fix that? 

When he tried to talk to her, she wouldn't even look at him. He could see it in her eyes. She hated him. And behind that, she was in pain. She was lonely and his presence was of no comfort to her at all. 

_ "I don't know if this is something we can ever get past, Eric. This is…the last thing I have ever wanted her to feel. Unwanted and alone. Since the day Sydney left, I have tried to do everything to avoid that." _

Because he knew if he didn't, then his worst fear could come true. He would lose Taryn too. But at times like this, he feared that no matter what he did he was going to lose Taryn. Because he'd lost her the day Sydney left. 

Two weeks of walking on eggshells around his daughter and Vaughn didn't feel any closer to resolving things between them. She avoided and ignored him, keeping to herself whenever he was around. He alternated between trying to give her more attention and leaving her alone. Neither seemed to have much of an effect, but he thought he had time. 

And then at the beginning of the third week, Taryn was playing in the backyard, he was putting away laundry in her room and his daughter's scream had shattered his world. He abandoned the laundry and rushed to the backyard. 

_ "Taryn?" _

After only a moment his eyes had settled on her lifeless body strewn across the grass under a tree. He had rushed over, shouting, crying her name and gotten no response. He'd ripped his cellphone from his pocket, as he'd fearfully taken her pulse. He couldn't move her. He didn't dare pick her up. The next few minutes passed him in a blur. He'd stroked her hair, and tried to get her to awaken. Sirens blared down the street. Fire trucks and ambulances invaded the driveway. Fireman and paramedics trampled his lawn, asking myriads of questions. Then, they'd stabilized Taryn's neck and spine and started to take her to the ambulance. He'd rode along, trying to answer medical history questions the whole way. 

They arrived at the hospital an eternity later. They wheeled Taryn into the ER. It was then that she started to come around. Her eyes widened at unfamiliar surroundings and strange faces. 

_ "DADDY!" _

"I'm here, Taryn." 

He held her hand as doctors went through exams and x-rays, telling her she was going to be fine even though he had no idea whether or not that was really true. He could hardly bear seeing his vibrant daughter so fragile and small. 

_ "Good news, Mr. Vaughn. Your daughter has no broken bones, just some minor abrasions. She does have a concussion that we want to keep an eye on. We're going to get her settled in a room upstairs, and keep her overnight for observation. Is there anyone you'd like to call?" _

Weiss was on assignment. Will was out of town visiting family. He talked to Mrs. Ramirez who said she'd inform Lila and they'd drop by for a visit when Taryn was home. He stood outside Taryn's room, just staring at the phone in his hand. He hesitated before dialing one more number. 

_ "Jack Bristow." _

It was a short awkward conversation, but a half an hour later, he was face to face with the father-in-law he hadn't spoken to in five years. He didn't feel uncomfortable. He felt threatened. What was Jack doing here? He hadn't asked him to come. Vaughn had just wanted him to be informed of his granddaughter's situation. But what was Jack doing here at the hospital? Was he going to see Taryn and then drop out of her life again until the next family emergency? He wasn't going to introduce his daughter to her grandfather if he wasn't going to be apart of her life. 

Was Jack there to scrutinize his parenting skills? To question him as to how he could have possibly been so irresponsible? Tell him how thankful he should be that Taryn was even alive? 

But it wasn't the proud, defiant, scrutinizing Jack Bristow that stood before him. Instead, he looked apologetic, regretful and concerned. With a deep sincerity, Jack convinced him that he was no threat, and Vaughn led him into the room. 

Taryn had been resting peacefully when Vaughn had left her but she was awake when they entered. He finally stepped up and introduced Jack as her grandfather. Taryn looked vaguely puzzled and watched Jack warily. He hoped Jack wasn't offended that Taryn didn't just immediately accept him. Vaughn didn't blame his daughter for her hesitant attitude about a grandfather she hadn't seen in five years. 

Taryn wasn't any warmer towards Jack when they parted company at end of her hospital stay. Lila and her mother visited as promised, bringing Taryn balloons and a card. Vaughn had vaguely expected Jack to call and check on Taryn's recovery, but he didn't. Instead he dropped by two days later, unexpectedly. Taryn and Jack seemed to really get along during that visit. Vaughn wasn't sure whether to be more worried or pleased when he watched Taryn embrace her grandfather with a hug before he left. 

He decided on worried when the door closed and Taryn turned and looked at him seriously. 

_ "If that's Mommy's daddy, then where's Mommy's mommy?" _

He'd sighed realizing the can of worms he'd opened by bringing Jack back into Taryn's life. He called him up a day later and expressed his concerns. 

_ "I want Taryn to know you. I want her to have a grandfather. But that doesn't change the decision I made five years ago about what I was going to tell her about her mother." _

"Someday, she will have to be told the truth. But I will respect the boundaries you set about the information she's given." 

With his mind eased about that, Vaughn encouraged Taryn to get to know her grandfather. He'd never seen her embrace anyone the way she embraced Jack. She talked to him on the phone, and looked for opportunities to go on outings with him whenever she could. Jack attended a few of her soccer games and invited her to his house often. 

She returned from Jack's house with things to tell him about her mother quite regularly. 

_ "Mommy liked carousels, and beaches and ice cream." _

He'd nod and pretend this information was all new to him. He never volunteered any details or new information. And he rarely answered the questions Taryn had because of it. 

_"You could talk to her about things other than Sydney," Vaughn snapped at Jack one afternoon. _

Jack nodded. "She wants to know everything she possibly can about her mother. And I won't lie to her." 

"I'm not asking you to lie. But the more you tell her about Sydney, the more she knows about what she's missing. You're cultivating her interest in a woman who has shown no interest in her." 

And he didn't want Taryn to ever have to know that. 

He'd always thought there'd be phone calls. Hang-ups in the middle of the night. Just wanting him to pick up so she'd know he was alive and well. Then, he thought maybe there'd be letters. Unsigned, with no return address. Just to ease his mind, so he'd know she was alive and well. He thought there'd be gifts for Taryn. That he'd have to make a decision on whether or not to give her or whether or not to tell her who they were from. And in the absence of all those, he expected divorce papers. So, she could severe ties with them completely. 

But there was nothing. Nothing to show any interest or concern. Nor any sign that she was missing them. No closure. 

_"It's not a crime for you to move on with your life," Weiss told him. "You can get some kind of absentee divorce." _

But he couldn't just move on. Some nights when he was sure Taryn was asleep he'd dig out his wedding band and wonder. He'd searched the house thoroughly, wondering if Sydney had left hers behind. He couldn't find it. If she intended to never see him again, why had she taken the ring? He shouldn't wonder. He shouldn't care. But he did. 

The divorce he didn't worry about. Taryn was his focus. Anyone else was going to be second. And Taryn always found more than a few ways to keep him on his toes. 

_"Daddy, I want to try going to school again." _

He debated, not wanting to put her through the troubles they'd gone through the last time. He'd sought the advice of her therapist and Lila's mother. And finally decided to try and get her enrolled in Lila's school. He took it as a good sign that he was able to do even more than that. Taryn tested in a grade ahead for her age, so he was not only able to get her into Lila's school, but Lila's class. 

And this time, Taryn thrived there. She made new friends. She made good grades. And she didn't get into fights. She actually seemed to fit in at school. He still taught evening classes at the college, but it left his afternoons rather empty. 

Which gave him time to focus on the family finances. 

_"Mike, you look worried. What's up?" _

"My job at the college isn't going to be able to keep covering the expenses. The house needs some repairs; Taryn's growing out of all her clothes. The therapy bills...." 

Weiss sighed. "You know you still haven't touched the ten thousand dollars Sydney left you." 

"And I'm not going to." 

"I know after what she did, you don't want to feel like you owe her anything, but the way I see it, you deserve that money. She obviously wanted you to have it. She's certainly not contributing anything else to Taryn's life, add in pain and suffering and I say it comes out to just about ten thousand dollars." 

He couldn't agree. He wasn't going to touch that money. He'd been raising Taryn fine without it for years, he wasn't going to start relying on it now. 

_"Money problems, huh?" Will sighed. "You'll hate me for suggesting this, but you could come back." _

"To the CIA. Will, I left that life, I have a daughter to--" 

"Not back out in the field. Just…back." 

He didn't want to even consider it at first. Going back to that life. A life he'd shared with Sydney. 

_ "If you come back, it doesn't have to be about Sydney," Weiss mentioned. "You don't have to work on those cases." _

He wasn't sure avoiding the cases would be enough. It was going to be strange, being there without her. He was surprised the advice that impacted his decision came from Jack Bristow. 

_"You told me that Sydney wasn't going to be a part of your life anymore. If that is truly the case, then she should have nothing to do with your decision whether or not to rejoin the CIA." _

He looked at his mounting bills, and called Devlin the next day. He decided he'd work during the day, and he wanted a schedule where he'd still be there for Taryn as much as possible. 

_"What are you going to tell Taryn?" Weiss questioned. _

"That Daddy works for the government. I think she's too young to care about the details." 

And so he returned to the CIA. He went back into the Operations Center, back to the office that he had spent months in looking at reports that he'd hoped would give him some clue what happened to his wife. 

It wasn't as big an adjustment as he'd thought it'd be. He was still able to help Taryn with her homework, fix her meals and talk to her about her school day. 

_"Lila plays the flute. I want to play the flute too." _

Vaughn thought it was a great idea at first. Playing a musical instrument would teach Taryn about discipline, patience, hard work and perseverance. 

The flute lessons lasted two weeks exactly. They ended abruptly, with Vaughn paying damages to the school for a shattered window and a broken flute. He hoped his daughter would be able to learn to control her temper eventually. 

_"Perhaps flute wasn't the right instrument for her," Jack decided. "She likes to play with the piano at my house. She could take private lessons-" _

"No, Taryn and I have already decided no more music classes. At least, not for awhile." 

Jack tried to insist that Taryn might do better with private lessons instead of a music class setting, but Vaughn felt here had to be some consequences for her behavior. 

School seemed to go smoothly after that and Vaughn was pleased that conferences with her teacher were only made during the normal period of grading. 

_"Taryn is a joy to have in class. She asks questions, always actively participates in discussions. Her test scores are well above average. I definitely think we can get her into some of our advanced programs. You've done a wonderful job with her Mr. Vaughn. It seems Taryn has been able to adjust to the death of her mother very well." _

Vaughn blinked. "The death of her mother?" 

"Yes," the teacher continued without notice of his confusion. "She was hesitant to talk about it at first, but I think she's more comfortable in class now that she has." 

He had no idea what he was going to say to his daughter as he walked into his house that evening. The nanny told him Taryn was reading in her room. He went in and opened the door. She had looked up at him and started to smile. 

_"Why did you tell them she was dead?" _

Taryn sunk behind her book. 

He crossed the room, took the book from her hands and turned her to face him. "No, Taryn. You look at me and you explain why you told your teacher and your classmates that your mother was dead." 

Taryn sighed. "Lila's daddy's dead. No one picks on her." 

Vaughn raised his eyebrows. "They picked on you?" 

His daughter shrugged. 

"Taryn?" 

"They kept asking. I just wasn't answering and they wouldn't accept the answer that I just didn't have one. So...I told them she was dead and they stopped." 

"But, she's not dead, Taryn." 

"I know." She turned away and curled up on the bed. "She might as well be dead." 

He didn't know what to say. He had intended to scold her for lying but it wasn't as if she was wrong. Sydney was certainly dead to her. There were times when he'd wanted to tell Taryn Sydney was dead. Times when he'd wanted to tell himself she was dead. If he'd wanted to live that lie, then how could he blame Taryn for wanting the same? It made things easier. 

Dead didn't leave uncertainty about the future. Dead didn't leave behind any questions. 

_Dead wasn't by choice. _

He couldn't tell Taryn she had to go and tell her classmates and teachers the truth. Because that would lead to the inevitable question. 

_What was the truth? _

Seven years old. Trying so hard for acceptance among her peers. But still so emotionally fragile. This was not the time to tell Taryn that she'd been abandoned. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't shatter the person she was finally comfortable being and make her start over. Maybe it wasn't so horrible to let the school believe it. As long as Taryn understood that that wasn't the truth. 

It was a decision he still questioned himself about in the middle of the night. But as he'd tucked Taryn in that night, it seemed right. 

_"So we don't have to tell them?" _

"No, Taryn. If you don't want to, you don't have to tell them." He brushed the hair from her face and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Just, no more secrets from me, okay?" 

Taryn didn't reply. 

A month later she was demanding her father take her to Jack's house without explanation. 

_"It's a surprise, Daddy." _

He settled in the living room on a couch, while his daughter settled on a piano bench. Jack sat in a nearby chair. Taryn grinned mischievously at the both of them and then began to play. Vaughn's eyes widened as his daughter wasn't just plucking on keys, but actually playing, with her fingers arched in proper form. She wasn't looking at the keyboard, but reading music. 

He managed to hold a smile through her performance then he discreetly pulled Jack aside into another room. 

_Vaughn shook his head, straining to sound calm. "She's had lessons." _

Jack's expression remained stoic. "She likes piano. She wanted the lessons." 

"She's seven years old. What she wanted isn't the point." 

"Maybe it should be." 

"No, the point is she isn't Sydney. No amount of piano lessons, or rides on carousels or trips to the beach are going to change that she is never going to be Sydney. Nor does it change the fact that you went behind my back to give her these lessons. And they're not going to continue." He turned and went back into the other room. "Taryn, it's time to go, now." 

In hindsight, he realized that he'd overreacted. He'd refused to discuss the matter any further with Jack. It wasn't the piano lessons. Jack and Taryn had kept a secret. The last thing he'd needed was for his daughter to feel the need to hide things from him. His relationship with Taryn was strained enough without adding in any more secrets. Especially secrets about things that related to Sydney. He had no doubt Jack had encouraged Taryn's interest because it had been one of Sydney's interests. Taryn easily embraced things she knew her mother had liked. Jack could have simply taken advantage of that. But Vaughn didn't need Taryn idolizing Sydney. He hardly felt she was a proper role model. 

Even though Jack insisted it wasn't about Sydney. 

_ "Not allowing Taryn to continue piano lessons is punishing her for my decision," Jack insisted. "Taryn had an interest in piano before I told her that her mother used to play." _

Taryn completely didn't understand why he didn't allow the piano lessons to continue. 

_"It's not fair!" _

After a couple of days of her leaving rooms when he entered and slamming doors every time she exited a room, he realized he wasn't going to be able to just talk to her. 

_ "Taryn, I'll be out back." _

He knew she'd follow. She never passed up the opportunity to shoot with him. She was out the door and in the woods with him before he'd even fired a single shot. He acted as though he didn't notice at first. Then, when she got close enough he reloaded and gestured for her to come up beside him. He stood behind her holding her hands steady to keep the proper aim. 

They exhausted half his supply of empty bottles in silence. But after a reset, when he moved beside Taryn again she simply stared into nowhere. She took a deep breath and sniffled. 

_"Taryn?" _

The child blinked back tears. "I don't want you and Grandpa to fight anymore. I don't have to play piano if you don't want me to." 

Vaughn watched her carefully. "You really like piano?" 

Taryn looked up at him, searching his face. She finally nodded hesitantly. "Yes." 

He sighed. "Okay." 

Taryn's face lit up and she embraced him. 

He'd called Jack the next day to ask if Taryn could still go there for piano lessons. There was barely an awkward silence before Jack had given him his trademark serious voice. 

_"Of course." _

There was never any discussion about their previous disagreement. 

That summer Lila and Taryn put on concerts for them with their respective instruments whenever they had the chance. 

His friend Agent Craig visited for the first time in several years, shortly after Vaughn was relaxing into having an eight year old in school. 

_"So, what brings you by?" Vaughn inquired. _

Craig smiled secretively. "Well, Mike, what would you think if i said I'm getting married?" 

"You're not!" 

"Actually, I am. We've set a date for this coming summer." 

"Well, congrats. You're getting married, Craig. Never thought I'd see the day." 

"So, you'll be there right? Maybe Taryn can even be in the wedding." 

"I wouldn't miss it." 

Vaughn had thought he'd remember Craig's wedding for how happy his best friend had looked. He thought he'd remember it for the sunny day in the park that it was. Or for the image of his daughter all dressed up as a flower girl. 

Instead, all he could remember about that day was that it was the first time he saw Sydney in eight years. And he would give anything to go back in time and stop that from happening. 

So, now he stood there, looking at her through the glass, with her watching him just as intently. He lifted the packet in his hand and looked her in the eye. "We need to talk." 

___ 

_A/N: I've been terrified I'm out of touch with this story, so please, please tell me what you think. It'd also be really helpful if you tell me what your favorite passages were. _


	5. Loss of Orphans

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been writing updates for this story all summer but I hadn't gotten around to posting them here. Now that has made updating so much easier I'll try and do better. :)  
DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _The damage will never be done...._  
5th in the Cry of Orphans series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_For chimaera. _  
  
**LOSS OF ORPHANS**  
By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2004  
  
It had been a year.  
  
A year since Sydney had turned herself in. A year since she'd forced her way back into his life. A year since she'd sent a shockwave through his world.  
  
He'd had to stand by and watch the CIA play her games. Offer her deals. Make compromises. He wasn't there to make compromises or deals. He wanted one thing. Answers.  
  
He held up the photo packet to the glass of her cell for her to see. "How did you get these?"  
  
A semblance of a smile appeared on her face, as if perhaps this was all too amusing. She barely even looked at the photo packet, simply watching his face. He'd managed to put off a visit to her all this time, but this couldn't be weaseled out of and ignored as he'd done with everything regarding Sydney for the past year.  
  
_"She's processed and in the cell downstairs. You can see her whenever you want," Weiss told him.  
  
Vaughn shook his head. "I saw her before she turned herself in. I have no desire to ever see her again."_  
  
Weiss hadn't taken offense to his frosty tone. He'd just silently nodded towards who was entering the rotunda.  
  
Vaughn shouldn't have found it surprising that he saw Jack Bristow arrive and head for the cell immediately. First, he'd wondered how Jack had gotten in. Jack Bristow no longer worked for the CIA. He didn't have to. Vaughn watched his reunion with Sydney on the monitor. He wanted to hear her explain herself and apologize. He wanted to see the tough Jack Bristow he knew demand answers and reasons and explanations. Instead, all he'd seen was Jack welcoming Sydney back with open arms.  
  
Vaughn was _not_ going to do the same.  
  
_"You'll have to talk to her sometime," Weiss told him, simply._  
  
As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had realized Weiss was probably right. Sydney's return was going to cause quite the stir at the CIA. There were going to be briefings, meetings, interrogations and likely hearings held about her. As long as he was still working at the CIA, there was a good chance he was going to have to be involved in some of the proceedings. He knew she might even request to speak with him specifically. He had had no idea how he was going to handle it if she did.  
  
_What would he say to her?_  
  
Before he left work that day, he looked up at a monitor's constant feed of the cell. Sydney was pacing, getting acquainted with every inch of her prison. Her hair was far longer than she'd kept it eight years before. She looked directly at the camera, almost as if she was staring back at him. Her face had developed laugh lines. There was a dangerous look in her eyes, though she almost looked at home in the cell. She calmly settled on the cot. Vaughn was both mesmerized and alarmed by how much she looked like her mother. It was hard to think of her as Sydney, at least as his Sydney. She was so far removed from the woman he'd known eight years prior.  
  
_"Vaughn."  
  
He loved the way she said his name. Both endearing and yet clearly demanding his immediate attention. He turned away from the dinner he was fixing her and greeted her with a quick kiss. "When did you get home?"  
  
"Five minutes ago," she replied, with a smile.  
  
He stepped back and turned back towards the stove. It was silent a moment and he looked back to see her staring at him. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head, almost shyly. "Nothing, I'm just..." She trailed off and smiled again.  
  
He raised an eyebrow and turned to give her his full attention. "You're just...what?"  
  
"I'm pregnant, Vaughn."  
  
He couldn't help the grin that formed on his face. He moved to embrace her.  
  
"I went to the doctor today--"  
  
His grin lessened. "Without me?"  
  
"I wanted to be sure before I said anything," she said seriously. "And I wanted to know what more I could be doing and that everything was going well and--"  
  
"Sydney, we're going to have a baby!" he interjected, patting her stomach even though there was nothing to feel yet.  
  
She giggled lightly. "Well, not for about eight months."  
  
"We're going to have a baby," he repeated with wonder.  
  
She placed a hand to his cheek and caught him in an intense stare. "I love you," she said, softly.  
  
He kissed her again. "I love you, too."_  
  
He turned away from the monitor. That day had seemed like a lifetime ago. He headed home to his _baby_.  
  
_"What have you told Taryn?" Will asked him.  
  
"I haven't told her anything. Nothing has changed. Telling her that her mother is imprisoned by the government isn't any better than telling her that Sydney abandoned us."_  
  
Jack disagreed.  
  
_"It changes everything. She is now in a concrete location. You can talk to her. She can answer your questions."  
  
Vaughn shook his head. "The answers don't matter anymore."_  
  
He just wanted Taryn and him to be able to move on with their lives. Yet, he found himself sitting in the briefing room meetings, listening to others plead her case.  
  
_"Sydney is willing to give up substantial information about Sloane, his organization, and his facilities," Kendall explained.  
  
Vaughn blinked, incredulously. "How can we trust this information? How can we trust a thing she says?"  
  
"Agent Vaughn, if you cannot separate your personal feelings from your professional ones, then perhaps you shouldn't be involved in these briefings."_  
  
Leaving briefings about Sydney early became a habit for him. Sometimes he'd just go straight to Taryn's school and pick her up early.  
  
_"But, Daddy, I was going to go to Lila's."  
  
"I just want you to come home, Taryn."_  
  
He didn't even know the reason he'd wanted that so badly at the time. They'd return to the house together, but not spend time together. Taryn would disappear into her bedroom to do homework or call Lila and he'd fix dinner. He realized now he'd done it for one simple reason.  
  
_He needed to have control over something in his life. Taryn he could control._  
  
Taryn had been so good about it at first. She'd spontaneously just give him hugs or drawings. But she eventually became curious.  
  
_"Dad, you've been sad since Craig's wedding. What's the matter? Do you want to get married too?"_  
  
He didn't know what look he had returned her question with, but her concerned face suddenly seemed to look regretful that she'd asked.  
  
_"No, Taryn. I don't think I ever want to get married ever again," he'd answered, shortly, harsher than he'd intended._  
  
Taryn had looked as though she might cry and retreated to her bedroom. He had instantly wanted to follow her, but he had a feeling if he spoke anymore on the subject he might just make things worse.  
  
_"Daddy, are you mad?"  
  
"Why would I be mad?"  
  
"You're always frowning. If you're not mad, then why?"_  
  
He hadn't expected Sydney's reemergence to affect him as much as it did. It affected everything about him. He would glance across the Ops Center and imagine he saw her standing there, waiting for him. It was the same at home. He'd look at the couch or step into the bedroom and be forced to recall that this was a home he'd shared with Sydney for over three years. And the memories refused to be drowned out.  
  
_"Sydney, what are you doing?"  
  
"I want this bookcase on that wall."  
  
"Well, I'll move it. Go sit down."  
  
She frowned at him indignantly. "Vaughn, I'm pregnant, not an invalid."  
  
"And you're attempting to overexert yourself. I won't have you taking any chances."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm fine."  
  
He sighed. "I just don't know why I'd do if something, anything happened and I lost you."  
  
Her expression softened. "Vaughn," she said, eyeing him affectionately. "Nothing is going to happen. You are not going to lose me."_  
  
Despite everything he'd done to remove her from the house, boxing away belongings and photographs, parts of Sydney still lived there, in the house. In him. In Taryn.  
  
_"Now, Taryn, the way this cupboard works is if for any reason you suspect there might be someone in the house and there's no way you can get out, I want you to hide in here and just be as quiet as you can. It's a secret panel. No one will know this hiding spot is here."  
  
"But why do we need this? If someone ever broke in, I know you'd protect me." She smiled.  
  
"But this is an extra precaution, because I couldn't bear it if anything ever happened to you."  
  
The child looked at the cupboard and shrugged slightly, as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Dad," Taryn said seriously. "Nothing is going to happen. You aren't going to lose me."  
  
He almost flinched._  
  
He wanted to think of Taryn as Taryn and Sydney as Sydney. But he couldn't disregard half his daughter's genetics.  
  
_"Dad, Grandpa says I look like Mommy. Do you think so?"_  
  
He'd told her to finish her homework. Then, he'd gotten his gun, took a box of empty beer bottles and headed into the back woods behind the house. He had to release the tension and the only other idea that had come to mind was tearing apart every room in his house.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taryn exit the house, all ready to join him. She waited patiently as he reset, expecting him to steady the gun in her hands for her turn as normal.  
  
_"Did you finish your homework?" he questioned.  
  
She shrugged. "Not yet."  
  
"I think you should go back inside and finish."  
  
"But, Dad."  
  
He frowned at her and she gave him a puzzled frown before turning to go back inside._  
  
She stopped coming out to shoot with him uninvited.  
  
He avoided Will and Weiss, knowing that if they dropped by, they'd surely bring up Sydney in someway. He knew Will had gone to visit her. He couldn't understand how they were all so calm about this. She'd certainly disregarded her friendships with them when she had decided to take off. Why they weren't angrier at her?  
  
_"You know she's sorry," Will told him, approaching his desk one day.  
  
Vaughn looked up at the monitor where Sydney was pacing her cell. "Really? She's told you that?"  
  
"Does she have to?" Will asked. "She came back, Vaughn. Isn't that enough of an answer for you?"_  
  
But it wasn't enough of an answer. He wasn't going to make assumptions about her actions ever again. He wanted to hear her tell him to his face how sorry she was. But as he looked up at her on the monitors, and the reports of the information she'd given, she didn't seem sorry. She had a new found power over the CIA. What did she have to be sorry about? Everyone was bending to her will and welcoming her back as if nothing had happened. The entire rotunda was focused on reacting to every page of information she was willing to give out.  
  
_"Have you looked at these latest statements from Sydney, yet?" Weiss questioned. "If this info pans out..." Weiss trailed off as he noted his best friend's frowning face. "Vaughn, all the info she's given us so far has been reliable."  
  
"Irina gave us reliable information for quite some time as well. She still betrayed us."  
  
"I was suspicious at first too. But, she is here to help us."_  
  
If she truly wanted to help them, then why give out the information in such small doses? Why wasn't she just handing over everything she had? He had only one answer. She was playing a game with them. And she was winning. But all his concerns were dismissed as him being unprofessional.  
  
_"Vaughn, we've tried to realize that this is an adjustment period for you. But this is getting out of hand," Kendall told him. "You need to deal with this. I'm not going to order you to attend sessions with Barnett, but you should seriously consider it."_  
  
Without being ordered to, Vaughn definitely wasn't going to go. Despite that he hardly had an appetite and was up most nights pacing the house, unable to sleep. When Sydney had first left, he'd found himself lying awake in bed many nights. His hand would wander to empty space beside him in the bed and be momentarily surprised to find it vacant. He'd taken to piling pillows beside him in the bed just so it didn't feel so empty. And when that didn't work, he'd get up and just watch Taryn sleep.  
  
It didn't relax him as much after Sydney's return as it had before. He was worried about his daughter. He was finding her moody and standoffish and more difficult to handle. She was dropped off at home after an afternoon at Lila's and he did a double take as she entered the house. Her face was smeared with make-up. Taryn noticed his stare immediately.  
  
_"Why are you wearing that?"  
  
"Oh, Lila's friend Amanda's older sister put it on. She's fourteen."  
  
"You're too young for makeup, Taryn."  
  
"It was just so we could-"  
  
"I want that makeup off your face right now."  
  
"But Daddy!"  
  
"Now, Taryn! And don't come out of that bathroom until you've washed it all off."_  
  
The child had run into the bathroom as though she was angry, but he'd seen tears in her eyes before she did so. He'd grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and sunk onto the couch. Taryn's face with make-up on had been startling. It had aged her features.  
  
_He had looked at his little girl and seen Sydney staring back at him._  
  
Taryn had presented her make-up free face for inspection half an hour later. It was reddened, whether from crying or scrubbing, he wasn't really sure. He had tried to smile at her but she had just looked uncomfortable.  
  
_"You want to go out to eat?" he'd questioned.  
  
Taryn shook her head.  
  
"You want to go to Jack's?"_  
  
She hadn't answered him, but the look in her eyes had been obvious. She'd packed a bag eagerly as he'd called to let Jack know he would like to drop her off. He delivered her and her overnight bag to Lila's, giving her a quick hug goodbye before heading straight to Eric's. He'd gone into the house and sat down before he said anything.  
  
_"I can't continue with the way things have been. I can't sit there, with my wife on every monitor, the topic of every conversation, and pretend it doesn't affect me." He sighed. "I can't even go home to escape her."  
  
Weiss sighed. "Taryn."  
  
He nodded. "I've been considering my options for weeks now. I can't afford to quit the CIA again. Not right now."  
  
"Then what are you going to do?"  
  
"I can't be a person I like right now. I can't come home and deal with Taryn after focusing on nothing but Sydney at work. And Taryn deserves better than that. I can think of only one thing to do right now. I'm going to return to field agent status."_  
  
He had no intention of doing high risk missions. He wasn't going to be out risking his life when he was Taryn's only parent. But he decided to talk to Devlin about surveillance-only field work. He knew that would be the easy part. It was going to take Taryn time to get used to the idea of him going out of the country several times a week.  
  
_"Why can't I just go with you?"  
  
"It's just for work. And Marina will be here with you to make your meals and overnight if necessary. Lila's mother says you can stay with them some nights if you would prefer."_  
  
The worried expression on Taryn's face didn't seem to go away even as he listed options. A nanny and extra visits to her best friend's house weren't going to change that her father was going to be going out of town, away from her, overnight, for perhaps days at a time. He knew it was going to be an adjustment. He just didn't know how much of an adjustment.  
  
It didn't take long for news to circulate. He answered an evening call just after Taryn had gone to bed and was greeted with a no-nonsense voice.  
  
_"This is a mistake."  
  
"Thanks for your support, Jack. I appreciate it."  
  
"Taryn does not need this type of instability in her life. Not right now."  
  
"The missions will be low risk."  
  
"I'm not talking about the risk. I'm talking about all the time you're going to be spending away from her."  
  
"I'm still going to be here for her as much as I can. And Marina will take care of her when I'm gone."  
  
Jack's voice tightened. "I will take her."  
  
"You'll what?"  
  
"I will take her. She can come to my house after school. She already has a room here where she can spend the night. It's only logical that you allow me to care for her while you're away."  
  
Vaughn paused. "You'd be willing to do that?"  
  
"I do not want my granddaughter raised by a nanny."_  
  
Jack had ended with a tone of finality. Vaughn had no doubt that Taryn would love to be able to spend more time with him. Even as Vaughn had no interest in spending more time with Jack, it was truly the best alternative for Taryn. Jack would make her feel safe and comfortable. That was exactly what she was going to need while he was away. And it would make leaving Taryn, if not easy, easier.  
  
_"Another trip?" Taryn asked, as she entered the bedroom.  
  
He set the suitcase on his bed. "Two days, one night."  
  
She sat down on the bed. "Why do you have to go on trips all the time?"  
  
"I've told you Taryn. Because I have to do things for my job that I can't do in town." He unzipped the suitcase, and began adding clothes.  
  
"Important things," she stated.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She looked down and then looked up at him again. "Aren't I important?"  
  
He looked at her. "Of course you are."  
  
"More important than you're job?" she pressed.  
  
"More important than my job," he assured her, with a smile.  
  
"Then, why can't you just stay here with me?"  
  
"Taryn, go make sure your overnight bag is packed, alright?"  
  
She stood up and started for the door. "I hate your job."_  
  
He had only pondered the comment a moment. He hadn't had time to do so any longer. The phone rang and he'd gotten some last minute mission information. The CIA had no interest in easing him back into field work. He had two and three day missions weekly at first. He spent more time in Russia and Korea and Australia than he did at home. The days he had off he spent sleeping and reviewing information for his next mission. But he had escaped what he'd wanted to escape. His time in the rotunda was limited. He had no idea what the CIA was doing with Sydney.  
  
_And he didn't want to know._  
  
He had other things to worry about.  
  
_"But, Dad, you're missing all my soccer games."  
  
"Not all of them, Taryn."  
  
"Most!"_  
  
Admittedly, he was missing most of them. But at the time he told himself things would calm down. He'd have more time and more energy, and he'd make it up to her. He began doing his best to bring Taryn back a gift whenever possible. Whether it was a stuffed animal, a doll, jewelry or a snow globe. She accepted the gifts eagerly. She had at least known he'd been thinking of her even if he'd been away from her. It probably wasn't the best way to handle it, but he knew he had to do something. Weiss always knew what he was up to when he caught Vaughn browsing airport gift shops.  
  
_"Mike, you do know the last thing your daughter needs is more stuff." _  
  
Jack obviously felt the same. Vaughn stopped giving Taryn her gifts in Jack's presence as he received a rather obvious glare.  
  
_"You wouldn't have to buy your daughter's affections, if you weren't leaving her all the time."_  
  
He didn't take Jack's comments to heart. Jack had spent a lot of time away from Sydney growing up and he knew Jack didn't want him doing the same with Taryn. But Vaughn felt the situation was entirely different. He was still _there_ for Taryn. Jack wasn't around when Vaughn tucked her into bed every night he was home. Vaughn didn't always have time for a story anymore but he tried to make sure Taryn knew if there was anything on her mind she could talk to him about it then. She normally gave him a quick hug and kiss, and settled down without saying anything. If there was anything wrong, he'd know it.  
  
Or at least he'd thought he would.  
  
_"Taryn, I just got a call from your teacher. She says you haven't been participating in class lately. What's going on?"  
  
"I haven't felt like it."  
  
"Your schoolwork is important. You need to be doing your best."  
  
"Okay."_  
  
He hadn't known what to say when he'd received no argument, except to expect more. But that wasn't what he'd gotten.  
  
_"I'm very concerned Mr. Vaughn. Taryn's grades are a steady decline. She's lashing out at the other children, and doesn't seem to be putting much effort into her homework. Is there some problem at home I should know about?"  
  
Vaughn looked at Taryn's progress report and shook his head. "Nothing I can't handle."_  
  
He'd handled worse than declining grades before. It should have been simple.  
  
_"What's going on with school, Taryn?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Then, why are your grades dropping?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, you need to figure it out."  
  
"Leave me alone!"_  
  
The more he pushed, the more she refused to talk to him. It frustrated him to watch her scribble away in a journal book in her bedroom, but not answer his questions. On one of his Saturday afternoons off, he actually attempted to locate the book. He told himself he'd only read a page or two and then leave it alone. He respected his nine and a half year old's right to have some privacy.  
  
He looked under every pillow, stuffed animal, and behind every book on in her bookshelf. He searched boxes and yet there was no sign of the journal. He tidied the room up a little, and finally left it. He wanted to just take Taryn out to eat and try to get her mind off whatever was bothering her. But he got a call that night from work and spent two days in Sweden surveying a warehouse.  
  
As soon as he got back into town, he just wanted to see Taryn. He went straight to Jack's house, even though it was nearly midnight. He knocked on the door and Jack opened it.  
  
_"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm here to pick up Taryn."  
  
"She's asleep," Jack informed him._  
  
Vaughn had pushed his way into the house anyway.  
  
_"She can go back to sleep when we get home."  
  
"Or you can pick her up in the morning."_  
  
He headed to Taryn's bedroom. She was sleeping soundly. He knelt beside the bed and rubbed her back gently, until she turned her head and blinked her eyes open to look at him.  
  
_"When did you get back?" she asked sleepily.  
  
"About a half hour ago. Let's go home."  
  
Taryn sat up slowly. "Home?"  
  
Vaughn moved to pick up her bag. "Yes, I'm here to pick you up." He placed an arm around her as they left the bedroom.  
  
"What about Grandpa?"  
  
Vaughn stared at her, perplexed. "What about him? He's staying here." They turned the corner and entered the living room.  
  
Taryn slipped out from under his arm. "I want to stay here."  
  
Vaughn frowned momentarily. "You'll be back here later this week. Tonight, we're going home."  
  
Taryn shook her head. "But Dad, I don't want to go."  
  
"Taryn, what is this about?"  
  
"I don't want to go!" she shouted, stomping her foot.  
  
Jack appeared in the living room, with a questioning frown.  
  
Taryn immediately rushed over and hugged him. "Grandpa, please don't make me leave. Can't I stay here tonight?"  
  
Jack hugged her back momentarily. "Of course you can stay."  
  
Vaughn swallowed. "Thank you for the offer, Jack. But Taryn really needs to come home tonight. Taryn, get in the car."  
  
Taryn erupted into tears. "No! I don't want to!" She gripped onto Jack tighter.  
  
Jack glared at Vaughn. "Go back to bed, Taryn."  
  
"Jack," Vaughn protested.  
  
"Now," Jack ordered. Taryn obeyed and disappeared behind her bedroom door.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" Vaughn demanded.  
  
"You didn't think it would perhaps be a better idea to find out why she was so upset before just ordering her to leave with you?"  
  
"You know why she's upset?" Vaughn questioned.  
  
"Why is it so important that she leave with you right now?"  
  
"She's my daughter whom I haven't seen in two days."  
  
"She's been having nightmares."  
  
Vaughn sighed. "Kids have nightmares."  
  
"She's obviously not comfortable with how much you leave her. She needs to be able to count on you, and right now she knows she can't."  
  
"So you're a therapist now, Jack? I was there for her for five years that you couldn't care less. Now, you think you know my daughter better than I do."  
  
Jack stiffened. "Go home, Vaughn. Get some sleep. You can pick Taryn up at 8 a.m. tomorrow. Not before."_  
  
Vaughn had reluctantly gone home but he hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes he pictured the tear-stained face of his daughter. Taryn, in tears over the thought of coming home with him. Maybe it was because she was tired and he'd surprised her in the middle of the night. Jack talking about nightmares didn't make any sense. She'd had nightmares before. She was simply still adjusting to his new hours.  
  
Vaughn arrived at Jack's house at ten to eight the next morning. He waited ten minutes before honking the car horn. Taryn exited the house slowly and climbed into the car.  
  
_"I missed you," Vaughn said, gently._  
  
Taryn had had no reply.  
  
Vaughn had lapsed into offering various places he and Taryn could go to spend some together, just the two of them. If any of the places interested her, Taryn didn't let on. He dropped her off at school and wished her a good day.  
  
He couldn't let things stay this way, but he was at a loss as to how to get Taryn to talk to him. He called her therapist to find out if Taryn had been more forthcoming with her. The therapist had to admit that she'd reached a block with Taryn and hadn't been making progress in their sessions for several weeks. But she reminded him that Taryn would do best in an environment of consistency and stability.  
  
Vaughn had hung up the phone and stared up at the monitors. Sydney was having a meeting with Kendall. He'd frowned. He'd done everything possible to make Taryn's life stable, but the deck was stacked against him. Sydney had disappeared and hadn't given him any warning that she was planning to return. His life lacked stability, and thus, so did Taryn's.  
  
_"Vaughn, if you're really that worried about what you being gone is doing to her, you could quit field work," Will suggested._  
  
But he couldn't. He knew that wouldn't help. Being there drove him insane. Seeing her for longer than a few seconds overtook his defenses. For a small second, the eight years were disregarded. And he could remember what it felt like to hold her, to touch her. What she smelled like. How she laughed.  
  
_"If you just talked to her, it might be easier to work at the rotunda," Will thought.  
  
No one else had dared to suggest the two of them interacting as a solution to anything. Perhaps they knew what he knew. If he yelled, he'd shout himself hoarse. If he cried, he'd never stop. And if he entered her cell, he'd break her neck.  
  
"I know she left you, but she can't go back and change it. The damage is done."  
  
He clenched his teeth. It was the only way to keep from yelling out his response. "The damage will never be done."_  
  
It only took one look at Taryn to convince him of that.  
  
He was home when the bus dropped Taryn off from school. He called a greeting to her, but she quickly disappeared into her bedroom. He had taken a bracing breath and knocked on her bedroom door.  
  
_"Taryn?"  
  
"Go away."  
  
"How was school?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Vaughn sighed and opened the door anyway. "How was-"_  
  
He hadn't had to finish his question. A bruise on his daughter's cheek, scraped elbow, and grass stained, dirty clothes, made it obvious.  
  
_"You were in a fight."  
  
Taryn's eyes filled up with tears as she looked back at him.  
  
"Daddy, I'm sorry."  
  
"Are you? I thought you had gotten past this."  
  
Taryn looked down. "I just-"  
  
"No apologies, Taryn. No excuses. This just does not happen again."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"NOT AGAIN!"_  
  
He'd startled Taryn and himself with the sound of his own raised voice. Her chin had quivered as she tried to keep from crying. She'd swallowed and nodded. He didn't soften. There had to be some consequences for her behavior. He banned her from television for a week and told her she couldn't go to Lila's. He had expected her to be more upset but she'd just sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest.  
  
Vaughn left her room and disappeared into his own. He didn't know what to do with her anymore. And he unfortunately had little time to consider his options. He asked Jack to keep him informed as to if there were anymore fights. Maybe she was just attempting to get more attention. He tried to make it a point to contact her even while he was away. Whether it be from in-flight phones or when he was holed up at a hotel for the night.  
  
_"Hi, Daddy. Where are you?"  
  
"I'm on a plane. How are you?"  
  
"I'm good. I had a great day. Grandpa came to my soccer game today. Guess what? We won. And then he took me to the park and we got ice cream. He said if you're not back tomorrow, he'll take Lila and me to the zoo. You won't be back, will you?"_  
  
He had stumbled through admitting he probably wouldn't be even though he wanted nothing more than to come home right that second. Will hadn't thought it was anything to be worried about.  
  
_"Well, that's healthy right? You don't want her sitting around doing nothing but missing you."  
  
"Is it wrong that I want her to at least miss me a little bit?"_  
  
He said it jokingly but he had realized since that he'd really meant it. Especially when he once overheard Lila and Taryn talking.  
  
_"Your grandfather is the coolest."  
  
"I know," Taryn responded with a grin. "He said next time I visit on a weekend, we can go to the beach. I can't wait for my dad to go away again."_  
  
Innocent words he knew he wasn't supposed to overhear, but he couldn't change the fact that he had heard them.  
  
_"Dad, can I go to the movies with Lila tonight?"  
  
"Why don't we spend some together at home? We haven't had an evening of just the two of us in awhile."  
  
"Lila's mom will pay for the movie."  
  
"Taryn, no. Let's just spend some time together as a family."  
  
Taryn rolled her eyes. "Grandpa would let me go."  
  
"Well, you're not at Grandpa's."  
  
"I wish I was."_  
  
Vaughn tried to figure out how his daughter had become a teenager three and a half years early.  
  
_"I can't recall the last conversation we had that didn't end with a slammed door. She's nine and a half--"  
  
"Going on seventeen," Weiss laughed._  
  
He hadn't joined in the laughter. He'd already moved onto his next thought.  
  
_"This last year has just been so hard on her."  
  
"It's been hard on both of you," Weiss responded.  
  
"I just, I don't know how to help her."  
  
"Maybe you need to help yourself first."_  
  
He wished he'd taken Weiss's advice to heart at the time. Instead, he'd disregarded the advice as a product of his best buddy watching too many daytime talk shows.  
  
Things weren't awful all of the time. There were normal days when nothing disastrous happened. He lived for those days. Days when he still tucked Taryn into bed and the day didn't end with them yelling at each other.  
  
_"I love you, Taryn."  
  
"Good night, Daddy."  
  
"See you in the morning."_  
  
But he hated dropping her off at Jack's. Jack would greet him with a glare each time. Taryn would throw her arms around her stoic grandfather, unfazed. She would quickly leap into babbling about her day or soccer or piano. Updating him on every detail of her life even though a day hardly went by that they didn't see or speak to each other.  
  
Vaughn watched their exchanges knowing he was an outsider and that they had their own relationship. But he couldn't stop himself wondering why his daughter couldn't be this eager to update him. He knew he didn't do his best on his mission in Frankfurt. His mind rarely wandered to the mission objective. He pictured Taryn and the smile she reserved solely for her grandfather.  
  
_"Hey, did Jack Bristow tell you?" Agent McCarthy asked. " The CIA is allowing him to consult on Sydney's case."  
  
"Consult? What for?"  
  
"I think they want to offer her a deal. Nine months of perfect intel. She's got their trust. It'll be a couple months before they iron out the details, but she plays her cards right, then she's getting full immunity and out of that cell."_  
  
Vaughn felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. They just could not do that.  
  
He didn't sleep the rest of the op. He attended his debriefing in a fog. It was ten o'clock at night when he set out for home, but his heart pounding in his ears made it impossible to concentrate. He found himself at Jack Bristow's house. He should have just gone home. He should have asked to sleep on the couch, or slept in his car. But he didn't.  
  
He got out of the car and knocked on the door.  
  
_"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow." Jack stepped back to allow him inside.  
  
"You have your surprises, I have mine."  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"I thought that after everything we've been through with Taryn over the past couple of years that you could have thought of her first."  
  
Jack was silent, having a realization as to what Vaughn was referring to.  
  
"And tried to spare us as much pain as possible." He stopped as he saw Taryn peeking out of her bedroom, still awake but in a nightgown.  
  
Vaughn shook his head at Jack. He pushed opened the bedroom door and took his daughter by the hand. "Taryn, it's time to go."  
  
Taryn shook her head. "No."  
  
Jack scowled. "Now wait a minute."  
  
"No, Jack. You've obviously made your decision. I'm making mine." Taryn tried to pull her hand from his.  
  
Jack began to look his calm. "You are being irrational-"  
  
"If you are going to be in her corner, then fine. But there will be consequences."  
  
"Grandpa?" Taryn pleaded, tears starting down her face.  
  
Vaughn gave her a stern look. "Taryn, we are leaving right now."  
  
"No!"  
  
He started towards the door, still holding her hand, but she didn't follow him.  
  
"Vaughn-"  
  
He shot Jack a glare. "Don't!"  
  
Taryn started to cry, bewildered.  
  
Vaughn picked her up and carried her out the door. He put her in the car, fastening her seatbelt for her. Her wails got harder as he got into the car and started pulling out of the driveway. _  
  
She cried the entire drive. Her cries had been reduced to coughs and hiccups by the time he pulled into their driveway at home. Her body shuddered from her sobs. He turned off the car and just sat there a moment. Taryn looked at him with furious brown eyes while angry tears burned down her cheeks. The question on her face was unmistakable.  
  
_Why?_  
  
He hadn't known how to begin but he'd given it a try.  
  
_"I know this doesn't make any sense to you right now and I can't explain it. But some day, when you're older--"  
  
"I hate you."_  
  
He'd fallen silent. She'd grabbed his car keys from the ignition, jumped out of the car and ran into the house. He'd sat there a moment. Just watched as his own daughter ran away from him. And replayed her words in his mind over and over again.  
  
_I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.  
  
IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou._  
  
Taryn had looked him in the eye and told him she hated him and he had no doubt that she really meant it. He didn't know how long he sat in the car, wondering what kind of person he'd become that his own daughter hated him.  
  
He hesitantly finally entered the house. He went to Taryn's room. The door was closed and when he pushed it open, he realized she'd tried to barricade it with various books and toys. He stepped over them and walked over to the bed. She was lying on her stomach on the bed, on top of all the covers. Her cheeks were red and tear stained, but she was thankfully asleep. He gently pulled the blankets around her and sighed.  
  
He sat down in the rocking chair beside her bed, where he used to sit to read her bedtime stories. Where he would rock her in her arms when she was sick. Where he had rocked her to sleep the night Sydney had abandoned them. In a room he had decorated with Sydney.  
  
In a life he was supposed to be sharing _with_ Sydney.  
  
_"Vaughn, what are you doing in here?"  
  
He stared down at the crib. "I was just trying to picture her."  
  
Sydney moved to stand beside him. "I've been trying to think about what it will be like when she's here. What she'll look like. What she'll be like."  
  
He grinned. "She'll look like you," he said, with certainty.  
  
Sydney laughed. "Maybe."  
  
"We'll take her everywhere in the world. England, Japan-"  
  
"France," Sydney cut in.  
  
"Of course," he responded. "She'll be completely spoiled."  
  
"Not_ too _spoiled," Sydney countered.  
  
He grinned mischievously. "You'll have to be in charge of that."  
  
Sydney smiled back then looked serious. "We'll protect her and make sure she isn't ever forced into any life she doesn't want."  
  
"And she'll have two parents that love her more than anything in the world."_  
  
Best laid plans.  
  
Vaughn called Marina to come over early the next morning. He let her know he'd probably need her around more for at least several weeks. He headed for work before Taryn woke up and arrived long before he needed to be in. He went up to the offices.  
  
_"Agent Vaughn, I've been hoping to see you. What can I help you with?"  
  
"Dr. Barnett, I think I...I think I need to talk."_  
  
The doctor had invited him into her office, taken a seat and looked at him expectantly.  
  
_"I don't know where to begin," he admitted.  
  
"Well, what made you decide to come here?"_  
  
It had taken him a moment, but he finally just said it.  
  
_"I'm afraid I'm losing my daughter."_  
  
It was a short session, and he wasn't sure what kind of progress he really made. Barnett setup a regular appointment schedule for him. He went to do a normal day of work, but returned home on time because he wanted to be there when Taryn arrived. But it wasn't Taryn that he met at home.  
  
_"Vaughn, we need to talk."  
  
"I don't think we have anything to talk about, Jack. I appreciate everything you've done for Taryn over the past few months. But I've already increased Marina's hours. Taryn won't be coming to your house when I'm away anymore."  
  
"You're punishing her to punish me."  
  
"No. I'm just trying to maintain a relationship with my daughter. And right now, I need to do that away from your interference."  
  
Vaughn started to head into the house.  
  
Jack remained stationary. "Sydney is going to get out with or without my help."  
  
Vaughn turned to look at him. "If you truly believe that, then why are you trying to help her?"  
  
"I have no doubt you would do anything to secure the freedom of your own daughter."  
  
"Not if she was a threat to society."  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed, and his voice tightened. "I know that we have had our differences, but I know you. I know what her disappearance has done to you. And you are fooling yourself. You don't want Sydney locked up because you feel she's a threat to society. You want her locked up because you think that's what she deserves for leaving you. But _you_ are not the only one who lost someone the day she left, and your refusal to realize that, has hurt your daughter more than anything Sydney could ever do."_  
  
Vaughn had been silent as he watched Jack climb back into his car and drive off.  
  
Taryn arrived home only a few minutes later. She passed him and went into the house without a word. She gave him the silent treatment for days. He thought she couldn't keep up for too long. Eventually she'd want something and have to ask him for it. He dropped her off at school himself, but she wouldn't talk during the drives. He made sure they had meals together, but she ate quietly. He'd try to tuck her into bed at night, but she'd turn her back to him and face the wall. She'd stiffen if he tried to hug or kiss her.  
  
He hoped that having her spend time with Weiss and Will would lessen how much it bothered her not to be seeing Jack. They were more than happy to take her. But they seemed unsure it made any difference and she wasn't any different when she got home. He tried shooting in the backyard and asking that she join him. Sometimes she would, sometimes she wouldn't. But she didn't speak to him either way.  
  
He eventually learned that her behavior wasn't being limited to him.  
  
_"Taryn's not participating in class. She's not socializing with the other students. And she won't talk to any of the teachers or counselors about what's wrong."_  
  
He checked with Mrs. Ramirez.  
  
_"Taryn's been sitting out a lot at practices."_  
  
And Lila.  
  
_"Taryn doesn't want to hang out with me. She doesn't call me anymore."_  
  
And her therapist.  
  
_"No, she hasn't been speaking to me. We've been doing some art therapy during our sessions."_  
  
He was very concerned about leaving Taryn for an assignment in Japan. It was only going to be for one night. Marina would stay with Taryn. But leaving her seemed like the worst idea.  
  
_He knelt down in front of her. "I'll be back tomorrow, Taryn. And when I get back, we'll go somewhere, just the two of us."  
  
Taryn stared at him, her face expressionless._  
  
He had hugged her stiff form and headed out the door. He saw her watch him out the window as he climbed into the car. He waved to her. She didn't wave back. He did as he promised when he returned home but things only seemed to get worse instead of better.  
  
_"She just turned ten years old. She doesn't laugh. She doesn't cry. And she doesn't talk. I don't know what to do for her."_  
  
He told Devlin he couldn't keep going away. He needed to be there when Taryn woke up in the morning and when she went to bed and after school. He needed her to have every opportunity to see that he was there for her. And he was ready to try anything.  
  
_"Tell me you want to go to Jack's. Just say it out loud, and I'll take you to see him."_  
  
Taryn had stared at him a long time, with nearly a pleading look in her eyes. Her mouth had nearly opened, but then her lips had pressed themselves back together and she'd remained silent.  
  
He should have taken her there anyway, but he didn't. When it was the one thing that had brought her close to speaking to him, he couldn't just give in that easily. And he knew Jack was heavily preoccupied with Sydney's case.  
  
If only Sydney hadn't ever come back. If only she hadn't ever left in the first place.  
  
_"I know you'd like to believe if Sydney hadn't left that your life would be perfect and you'd be a happy, perfect father," Dr. Barnett told him. "The truth is that may not be the case. You want permission to blame Sydney for everything wrong in your life. I can't give you that. And I wouldn't be helping you if I did."_  
  
He would have stopped blaming Sydney right that second if he'd thought it would make a difference. But Taryn wasn't going to know whether he was blaming Sydney or not. And he knew things would have been different if she hadn't ever disappeared.  
  
An alarming phone call from Taryn's school sent him rushing out of the office in the middle of the day.  
  
_"Mike, what's happening?"  
  
"Taryn's missing from school. She never came back inside from lunch recess. No one knows where she is."_  
  
He went to the house first, hoping she'd just tired of school and found someway home. But she wasn't there and Marina hadn't seen her. The nanny noted that some of he clothes were missing so it at least seemed like her disappearance was her own choice. Will and Weiss helped him question her classmates. But they hadn't seen anything. Not even Lila had any ideas. When he talked to Mrs. Ramirez, she assured him that Taryn wasn't hiding at her house, including Lila's tree house in the backyard.  
  
Weiss tried the park and the zoo. Will searched the beach and the pier. There was no sign of her.  
  
_"Where else would she go?" Will wondered._  
  
Vaughn swallowed his pride and knocked frantically on Jack's door. Jack Bristow raised an eyebrow at him when he answered the door and gave no greeting.  
  
_"Tell me she's here," Vaughn pleaded.  
  
Jack's stare hardened. "Taryn's missing?"  
  
"Look, if she's here, she can stay here. I don't care."  
  
"Vaughn, she's not here."_  
  
Vaughn forced back tears. _IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou. _This time he'd really done it. _IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou. _This time he'd truly lost her.  
  
They called the police. They got her picture out to the local new stations. Search parties were formed. Bus stations and airports were checked. But day turned to night with no real leads. She'd vanished, just like her mother had done nine years before.  
  
_"Where do you go when you want to disappear?"_  
  
The observatory was closed. And she wasn't at the bluffs or the Palisades either.  
  
_"And then I remembered you liked the train station. Normal people going to their normal jobs." _  
  
Some day, he'd have to thank Sydney.  
  
The train station was nearly deserted. He entered and scanned the few stragglers. And then, he'd spotted his small daughter sitting on one of the benches, backpack sitting beside her. He sighed in relief and watched her a moment. She looked so very lonely. He walked up to her slowly and sat down beside her. She looked up at him uncertainly and started to frown, obviously expecting a scolding.  
  
_"Where were you going?" he wondered, aloud.  
  
She glared at him. "To find my mother."  
  
He was so happy to simply hear her voice that it took some of the sting out of her words. "Why?"  
  
Taryn looked down. "Maybe she'll let me live with her."  
  
"You want to live with her?" he questioned, gently.  
  
"You don't want me around," Taryn accused.  
  
He sighed. "Taryn--"  
  
"It's true. You're always mad at me! You hate me!"  
  
He blinked. "No, Taryn, it's not true. I'm not angry at you. I could never hate you."  
  
Taryn hugged her knees to her chest. "You hate my mother, don't you?"  
  
He watched her carefully. "What makes you say that?"  
  
Taryn rested her chin on her knees, looking like she was going to cry. "You won't ever talk about her. You must hate her."  
  
Vaughn sighed. "Your mother left us, Taryn."  
  
Taryn swallowed, raising her eyes towards his slowly. "Was it because of me?"  
  
"No," he said firmly. "It was not your fault."  
  
"Then, why?"  
  
"She didn't tell me why, she just left."  
  
Taryn looked down. "Do you think she'll ever come back?"  
  
"No, I don't think she's ever coming back to us."  
  
Taryn was silent a moment. "Do you think she misses me?"  
  
"How could she not?" Vaughn smiled and kissed the top of her head.  
  
Taryn smiled slightly.  
  
Vaughn looked around. "Your mother liked it here."  
  
"She liked the train station?"  
  
"Yeah, she did."  
  
The little girl sat back a moment, just taking in her surroundings. "I like it here, too." Then, she looked up at him. "Dad?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can we go home now?"  
  
"Yeah." He stood up. "We can go home now."_  
  
They left the train station hand-in-hand and for the first time in a long time, he actually thought things were going to be okay. Taryn had taken finding out about her mother far better than he'd ever thought she would. They cautiously rebuilt their relationship over dinners, homework help and shooting bottles in the backyard.  
  
_"Can I...still visit Grandpa, sometimes?" Taryn questioned, as she set up new bottles.  
  
Vaughn reloaded his gun. "You can call him up whenever you want."  
  
"But, you're still mad at him, aren't you?" Taryn debated a moment. "If you don't want me to visit him, I won't."  
  
Vaughn put an arm around her. "Taryn, your relationship with your grandfather and my relationship with him are two entirely separate things."_  
  
Taryn fell back into calling Jack regularly and visiting him as if nothing had happened. Though, Vaughn and Jack limited their conversations to things relating to Taryn. Vaughn figured as long as they didn't talk about Sydney, they could at least remain civil.  
  
Vaughn went back to limited field work. He thought he was over the return of Sydney. He thought nothing else that happened with her could seriously affect him, short of her actually being released. And then Weiss stopped him in the rotunda.  
  
_"Hey, you coming over Friday night?"  
  
Silence.  
  
He looked up at his best friend. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Mike, I just got back from a mission to Finland, one based on intel from Sydney. She'd hid some information there...among other things." Weiss shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Eric?"  
  
Weiss held out a photo packet to him. "You'll just have to see for yourself."  
  
Vaughn flipped open the packet. He felt his entire face tighten and his mouth go dry._  
  
He stared through the glass at Sydney. "You haven't shown any visible interest in Taryn since she was nine months old, but you have pictures, _recent _pictures of her."  
  
Sydney looked at him expectantly.  
  
"Who took them?" Vaughn queried. "Why? Is this person still watching her?"  
  
Sydney looked mildly annoyed.  
  
Vaughn repeated his question slower. "Are they _still_ watching her?"  
  
Sydney turned away from the glass and walked back over to her cot.  
  
Vaughn shook his head. "You know, I wanted to have a child with you because I wanted it to be the strong, confident person I knew you to be. But instead, all I learned was that I don't know you at all and maybe I never did."  
  
Sydney sighed. "The person who took those pictures is no threat to her. I would have put a stop to it if they were."  
  
"Why were they taken?"  
  
Sydney raised an eyebrow. "You think I never wondered what she looked like, how she was-"  
  
"You could have called and _asked_ how she was," Vaughn interjected.  
  
"Or dropped by for a visit." Sydney shot him sardonic look.  
  
"Or never have abandoned her in the first place!" Vaughn shook his head and sighed. "I'd never seen you quit at anything. How could you quit at this?"  
  
Sydney blinked slowly.  
  
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "We had a daughter..."  
  
"No, Vaughn," she countered sharply, rising and approaching the glass. "_You_ had a daughter; I had a baby I didn't know how to take care of."  
  
"And that gave you the right to just disappear?"  
  
She crossed her arms. "I'm not proud of it."  
  
"I would have helped you!"  
  
"You couldn't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you have no idea what happened that day."  
  
"Because you didn't tell me!"  
  
Sydney let out an exasperated sigh. "I know it seems impossible to believe, but I didn't leave to hurt you." Her voice softened. "I loved you."  
  
He shot daggers back at her. "You didn't love me," he countered, dryly.  
  
"I didn't love anyone else!"  
  
"But you left." As he spoke, she turned away from the glass and walked to the furthest wall. "And I have spent the last eight years picturing you in some dark place, hoping you were suffering the way Taryn and I have suffered."  
  
Her head turned, and she looked at him with eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I wasn't?"  
  
He stiffened. "Whether you get out of here or not, I don't want you anywhere near me or Taryn. You stayed away for eight years. It should be _easy_ for you now."  
  
She sat down on her cot and hugged herself. "It was _never_ easy."  
  
"How difficult could it have been? You never had to think about us ever again."  
  
Her eyes rose towards his momentarily. "If you truly believe that, then you're right. You don't know me."  
  
He was silent a moment. "I want a divorce, Sydney."  
  
She said nothing. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but she obviously wasn't surprised or outraged.  
  
He continued calmly. "I want closure. I want you out of my life with no more loose ends."  
  
She didn't look at him.  
  
He turned to leave.  
  
"Vaughn--"  
  
His cell phone interrupted her. He pulled it from his pocket and placed it to his ear.  
  
"Mike, where are you? I've been trying to reach you for an hour."  
  
Vaughn waved to the guard at the end of the hall to raise the gates. "Why, Eric? What's the matter?"  
  
"It's Taryn."  
  
Vaughn froze, no longer sure where he was going or if. Eric continued talking and he did forced out logical questions, but his heart was pounding in his ears. When he finally ended the call, his mouth was dry. He returned his cell phone to his pocket with a shaky hand.  
  
Then, he turned quickly and walked back to the cell.  
  
Sydney looked at him.  
  
"You had something to do with this, didn't you?"  
  
She raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
He pushed the pictures against the glass. "Who was watching her? If they are truly no threat, then you can tell me who it was."  
  
Sydney stood. "Vaughn--"  
  
"Tell me who it was!"  
  
"Tell me what's going on!"  
  
_"I'm afraid I'm losing my daughter."_  
  
"The police are at my house! There are signs of forced entry! My living room is covered in bullet holes! Taryn's nanny is dead!"  
  
_"If someone ever broke in, I know you'd protect me."_  
  
Alarm seemed to flash in her eyes but her calm expression didn't change. Her eyes darted back and forth as if processing, but she didn't look surprised or concerned.  
  
"There's blood in Taryn's bedroom!"  
  
_"Dad," Taryn said seriously. "Nothing is going to happen. You aren't going to lose me."_  
  
Sydney looked him in the eye and this time she looked guilty.  
  
Vaughn beat the glass. "You tell me where she is! You tell me where my daughter is!"  
  
_Reviews=love._


	6. Blood of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _The guilty one with reddened hands...._  
6th in the _Cry of Orphans_ series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_The next phase...._  
  
**BLOOD OF ORPHANS**  
By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2004  
  
She looked so peaceful.  
  
He had directed they secure her in a seat on the airplane for takeoff, but as soon as they leveled out he moved her so she could sleep flat on the seats. He noted she was slightly tall for her ten short years, but she was light to carry. She'd been light to lift from the cupboard in her bedroom. It had been a clever design. It might have worked if there hadn't been trail of blood droplets leading to her hiding place. He'd pulled apart her hiding place and dragged her trembling form out of it. She'd looked up at him with terrified eyes, ready to scream and he knew he couldn't allow that. He'd covered her mouth and readied his syringe.  
  
It'd been hours since he'd given her the injection. It was nearing time for the drug to wear off. He brushed her hair away from her face to get a good look at her features and noted the silkiness of her hair between his fingers.  
  
_Sydney, totally and completely Sydney._  
  
The hair, the shape of her eyes, her mouth. The facial structure of her cheekbones. Even the size of her hands. She was her mother's daughter.  
  
He stepped back a moment, but immediately noted the blood seeping from the wound in her arm. He retrieved a first aid kit, cleaned and redressed the wound. As he tightened the gauze, she seemed to wince. He watched her carefully  
  
Her face creased with painful discomfort, but she didn't stir. He loosened the gauze slightly and settled in a seat only a foot away, taken with watching the child. Her face fluttered through a mix of emotions. Pain. Innocence. Confusion.  
  
It reminded him of the first time he'd seen Sydney nine years previous. It had been raining. She'd stepped from the shadows of a warehouse in St. Petersburg and directly into his path. And for the first time ever, he saw her unprepared for the gun he pointed in her face.  
  
_"Sydney Bristow, what an unexpected surprise."_  
  
Her hands flew up in surrender, not even going to attempt to knock the gun from his hands, even though she probably had a good chance of doing so.  
  
_"Sark, I need you to tell me where my mother is."_  
  
Her expression had held none of the contempt he was used to. Her tone of voice couldn't have been described as anything but desperate. She was somewhat shaky.  
  
_"I don't see why I would be inclined to do that. Who else knows you're here?"  
  
"No one. Listen, if she doesn't want to see me, she doesn't want to see me. But at least tell her that I'd like to talk to her."_  
  
He had reacted more skeptically than he truly felt necessary, but he had refused to completely rule out that this was some sort of deception.  
  
_"How exactly did you come to know I'd be here?"  
  
"You're not as hard to find as you'd like to believe. Now, are you going to help me or not?"  
  
A hint of annoyance this time. There was Sydney Bristow._  
  
Whether he contacted Irina or not, he couldn't just let her leave without finding out how she'd found him.  
  
_"Turn around and kneel."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me. You want me to contact your mother; you'll do as I say." He tried not to look surprised as she hesitantly did as told. "Hands behind your head."  
  
Again, she listened._  
  
He had scanned their surroundings carefully, looking for her to have backup, but none was visible. He moved forward, secured her hands, and directed her to stand again. He turned her around and patted her down thoroughly but she looked tired rather than annoyed by this action. She carried no weapon.  
  
He had stepped back and really taken in her appearance. Her skin lacked color. Her face looked clammy and waxen. And he found himself wondering when she'd last slept or eaten.  
  
He had taken her by the arm and guided her to his car. Before he allowed her to climb in the backseat, he blindfolded her. She sighed, but didn't protest. The facility he took her to was nearly an hour away but she was quiet the whole drive. He had her wait in the car while he talked to the guard at the gate.  
  
_"You brought a CIA agent here?!"  
  
"No, I brought Irina's daughter here."  
  
"So she knows all about this?"  
  
"She will."  
  
"She'd better."_  
  
He'd taken Sydney inside, still blindfolded and taken her down to a room. He removed the handcuffs and blindfold. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to light again and she took in the sparse furnishings of the cell-like room.  
  
_"If I truly am to talk to your mother on your behalf, I need to know why you need to see her."  
  
"I'd rather talk about that with her."  
  
"What are you doing here, Sydney? Last I heard, you'd quit the CIA and were living the fairy-tale life in L.A."  
  
Sydney sat down on the bed and just shook her head. "Apparently, fairy tales aren't for everybody."  
  
He looked down at her. "And what do you expect your mother to do?"  
  
She started to look frustrated. "I don't know what I expect. Maybe for her to listen to me."  
  
She looked small and lonely and nothing like the Sydney Bristow he was used to.  
  
"You have to wait here," he finally said.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I have to lock the door."  
  
"I understand."_  
  
He had glanced back at her once more before exiting the room. As he closed the door, she laid down on the bed. He found himself hoping she'd sleep.  
  
_"Irina is on business. She left this morning. She cannot be reached for the next 48 hours."_  
  
Sark ended the call, abruptly, annoyed by the timing of Irina's business trip. He made sure the guards gave Sydney meals as he finished the negotiations for the weapon sales transaction he'd come to St. Petersburg to complete. He was informed she hardly touched the meals and spent much of her time sleeping.  
  
48 hours elapsed and he called Irina.  
  
_"I expected you back by now."  
  
"There was a complication."  
  
"Did Ivan try to decrease the order?"  
  
"Sydney is here."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"She caught up with me two days ago. I've detained her. She says wants to see you, talk to you. She hasn't been specific as to what about."  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"She seems...despondent."  
  
Again, brooding silence on the opposite end.  
  
"She complied with the procedures for me to bring her here without argument. She hasn't complained once about being locked up for two days."  
  
"I'll see her."  
  
"We'll be there by late tonight."_  
  
He opened the door to the cell and Sydney hardly looked up at him. He dangled a blindfold in front of her and she gave him a questioning frown.  
  
_"We're going to see your mother."_  
  
He hadn't been expecting cartwheels, but he thought perhaps a smile or some other small indication that she was pleased. She'd only stood and turned her back to him so he could secure the blindfold.  
  
He hadn't removed it again until their plane was in the air. She glanced around momentarily then just sat stiffly in her chair.  
  
_"You still haven't told me how you found me."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Did you use the services of the CIA?"  
  
"I don't work for the CIA anymore. You know that."  
  
"But your father does."  
  
"I think you know enough about my family dynamics to know that my father would not like me to be here."  
  
"What about your husband?"  
  
"I'm not having this conversation."_  
  
He'd seen pain, guilt and sadness rush to her eyes before she turned her head away from him and stared out the window. There was nothing out the window, but she managed to concentrate on it the rest of the flight. She refused refreshment. Her hands fiddled seemingly pointlessly in her lap, until he realized they were actually twisting her wedding ring on and off.  
  
He had demanded her attention once as they neared their destination to return the blindfold to its place. A car awaited them at the airstrip and drove them to Irina's compound. He walked them briskly through the security into the interior habitat that ceased to be structured and sterile.  
  
He had let her stand in the middle of the sitting room and told her to wait. He headed into Irina's study to announce their arrival, knowing the guards would watch over Sydney.  
  
_Irina rose from her desk immediately. "Right on time."  
  
"She's in the sitting room."  
  
"Has she given you any clues as to what this about?"  
  
"None specifically. From the way she's playing with her wedding ring, I'd say there's trouble in paradise."  
  
Irina exited her study and he followed.  
  
He walked over to Sydney and as Irina took up a stance in front of her daughter, he removed the blindfold._  
  
He recalled Sydney blinking as she looked at her mother. Then, her face had mutated to fill with emotion that had been absent much of the time he'd been with her. He wouldn't forget the tears that had immediately started down her cheeks. She'd known that at that moment she had to explain what she was doing there and why. But for a good minute she only managed one word.  
  
_"Mom."_  
  
Irina had remained two feet away from her, looking at her expectantly.  
  
_"I didn't know where else to go. I didn't have anyone else to go to..." She looked down and clasped her hands together trying to hide how shaky she was. "I left Vaughn. I left... everything. I couldn't stay there anymore. I couldn't-I couldn't be her mother." Her last word disappeared into a whisper._  
  
He'd felt like an intruder on the scene as he'd watched Irina embrace her daughter. Even more so when Irina looked at him and her own eyes were glassy. He'd exited the room to give them their moment.  
  
Irina found him when he was having dinner later.  
  
_"Sydney will be staying with us for awhile. I have her settled in a room upstairs."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "The rooms upstairs don't lock."  
  
"She chose to come here, to come to me. She won't be a prisoner here, especially in the state she's in."  
  
"Has she given you a full explanation?"  
  
"She will, in time. Right now, she just needs rest."_  
  
They'd known each other long enough that he didn't have to say anything before Irina narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
_"State your concerns."  
  
"She claims to have left a perfectly fine life in L.A., with little explanation as to why. The Sydney Bristow I know doesn't run away from anything. I can't believe she'd leave at the first sign of trouble and come here, and find it difficult to believe that you would accept it either. And even if she is telling us the truth, there could be people looking for her."  
  
"If there are, we'll hear about it."  
  
"If she were anyone else, I doubt you'd take her in so easily."  
  
"If she weren't my daughter, I doubt she'd even be here to ask me for help. But she is. And she's exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I won't turn her away."  
  
"Because she needs your help or because you need for her to give you another chance?"  
  
Irina straightened and bored into him with an intense stare. "Since you are so concerned as to whether it's safe to have her here, you can keep an eye on her yourself for now." She turned and left him to eat the dinner he no longer had an appetite for._  
  
He still had to mildly scold himself for being so blunt in his concerns as to accuse Irina so forwardly. He had known her "offer" to allow him to keep an eye on Sydney was an order and his punishment. He had promptly gone to his room to make sure it was arranged to his liking for an extended stay as he wasn't going to be going away on business again anytime soon.  
  
He took his assignment seriously, even if he was a glorified babysitter. Sydney didn't emerge from her room for days. He observed the meals brought into her, which had plenty of food remaining as they were brought back out again. Obviously the lack of appetite was there to match the mood whether real or faked.  
  
Irina checked on her daily, disappearing into the room sometimes only for a few minutes, other times, several hours. He expected she'd come to him with any new information she received but she didn't seem to gain much new information. Except the location of some belongings Sydney had put in storage. Irina had them retrieved.  
  
He insisted on going through all the boxes before any of the contents inside were given to Sydney. Everything was scanned for possible tracking or listening devices. The first couple of boxes he cleared easily, nothing but clothes. He took careful time examining a couple boxes of books and music, but after a thorough search he was satisfied there was nothing harmful within. There were boxes of miscellaneous papers and personal items. One blanket. Some pictures.  
  
He examined the pictures with curiosity. Childhood photographs of Sydney with her parents. Teenage photographs of her by herself. More recent pictures of her with Francie, Will, Jack and various coworkers. Then, there were pictures of Vaughn, Vaughn and her together, wedding pictures. And finally there was a picture of Vaughn holding a baby.  
  
The final box had obviously been the most hastily packed. A few more clothes. A laptop computer. A wooden box caught his eye. It had a lock but it was unlocked. He wasn't surprised to find a weapon inside. He kept the gun and the laptop, clearing everything else to be given to Sydney.  
  
He waited two days after the boxes had all been delivered to Sydney before going to the room, wooden box and laptop in hand. She was standing at her window. Only one miscellaneous boxes remained. The clothes had filled her closet; the books were on her shelves.  
  
_"You may have noticed some items missing."  
  
She eyed the objects in his hand. "Thank you," she started to reach for them.  
  
He handed over the laptop. "For now, it has no outside connection. If you do require one, we can allow you to use our network. Though of course, any incoming or outgoing transmissions will be monitored and analyzed."  
  
"Of course," she said, emotionlessly, depositing the laptop on a desk.  
  
"This, I will be keeping a while longer." He doubted it would surprise her that she wasn't going to be allowed a fully loaded weapon.  
  
She looked him in the eye. "I'm no threat to you."  
  
He nodded. "And I'd like to keep it that way."_  
  
After the first week, Irina urged Sydney to join them for meals. It served a dual purpose, both getting Sydney out of her room, and allowing them to truly scrutinize her eating habits. She was quiet at the meals, and Sark was able to watch her creatively spread out the food on her plate to make it look like she'd eaten most of the meal rather than the three bites she'd truly eaten.  
  
She began to emerge from the room more often and Sark expected to start hearing of her attempts to wander into areas she shouldn't. But none were delivered to him and when he questioned the guards, they said she hadn't been near the restricted areas. She apparently just sat in the library or the courtyard. He observed they were correct. Completely. She just sat there. Doing nothing. Even in the library, if she happened to pick up a book, she would sit with in her a lap for an hour and never turn the page. In the courtyard, she'd sit on a bench and watch the trees.  
  
He hadn't been able to believe Sydney Bristow could truly be that boring. Either whatever secret mission she had come to accomplish hadn't been set into motion yet, or he wasn't looking hard enough. He decided to truly poke through her room one day when she was out of it. But searching the room was no more interesting than watching her sit around doing nothing. He searched inside and underneath everything but there was nothing hidden, nothing suspicious. And also no real reason behind her sudden appearance.  
  
_"Has she given you any explanation yet?"  
  
"She'll talk to me when she's ready."  
  
"And when she does?"  
  
"I'll listen."_  
  
He wondered how long Irina could wait. Even as she spoke calmly, he could see it in her eyes that even her patience on this matter was limited. Though while his thoughts were consumed with curiosity, hers were heavy with concern. And they both tried in their own way to solve the puzzle that was now Sydney Bristow.  
  
Irina continued her frequent visits with Sydney and he knew that she was doing her best to be available in case Sydney wanted to talk to her. Sometimes she'd join her in the courtyard. He wasn't sure how much progress she made. But after Irina would leave, he sometimes saw Sydney go to the corner of the yard where she apparently hoped no one could see her. He'd watched her carefully and the third time, he was certain she had to be up to something, using a transmitter of some kind, planting a bug. He had crossed the yard quickly and stopped inches from her, tense and ready for an attack that would follow being caught in the act.  
  
_"What are you doing?" _  
  
She had startled and turned to look at him suddenly. She was surprised. She hadn't been able to say anything. But she'd gazed at him with the saddest look he'd ever seen. Her brown eyes were full of tears. Her face was scrunched up and red. She'd looked away again trying to wipe her eyes. He hadn't known what to say, so he'd simply handed her the handkerchief, that'd he'd always considered rather decorative, from his suit pocket. He'd turned and walked away and hadn't mentioned the incident to anyone, not even Irina.  
  
He wasn't so certain he was going to find out Sydney was truly there to spy on them anymore. Especially as reports seemed to confirm the little they did know.  
  
_"The CIA is conducting a very serious search for you. Do they know you were trying to find us?"  
  
"I didn't tell them. No one knew I was leaving."  
  
"No one?" he pressed. "Not even your-"  
  
"No one," she finished, firmly._  
  
He should have left it at that, and allowed her to return to not-reading her book.  
  
_"What _are_ you doing here, Sydney?"  
  
She shut the book and looked at him. She looked frustrated a moment, and then the emotion melted off her face, replaced by a lonely, lost look. "I don't know."_  
  
She had gotten up and walked away.  
  
He regretted now how much he'd demanded answers from Sydney, and urged Irina to do the same. He knew Sydney had taken note of his always scrutinizing eye. She knew that he was watching her, expecting her to do something wrong. She didn't defend herself. If she had just explained her reason for coming, then he could have relaxed about her being there. What had made her so unhappy that she had to leave her life? That she felt like this was the only place to go?  
  
Needing answers to those questions became all the more urgent after Sydney had been with them for three weeks.  
  
He'd gotten used to her rather pointless routine of mornings in her room, afternoons in the courtyard, dinner with them and then an hour or two in evening in the library. She seemed to not care if they joined her or if they let her be. But he saw her not even attempt to rearrange her plate that evening at dinner. And she went right upstairs after. Irina went into the library anyway, perhaps hoping Sydney would join her later.  
  
He'd gone into Irina's study. He was in and out of there all the time so it took him barely a moment to notice a piece of jewelry on the desk that wasn't normally there. He stepped forward and picked it up, realizing it wasn't even Irina's. He'd seen it a jewelry box of Sydney's when he'd gone through her personal belongings. He momentarily considered that Sydney had given it to Irina but Irina wouldn't have left it there on her desk in the study.  
  
He took it with him, turned and headed upstairs to Sydney's room. He had knocked on the door, twice, but she didn't come to answer it.  
  
_He frowned slightly and attempted to turn the door knob. The door opened. "Sydney?"  
  
Silence.  
  
He started to enter. "Sydney?"  
  
He could have mistaken the room for empty. He started to try her bathroom, when he saw the top of her hair, just visible on the opposite side of the bed. She was sitting on the floor, her back to him. He walked around the bed.  
  
"Sydn--" The word disappeared into a gasp.  
  
The smell of copper attacked his nose and turned his stomach in a way that it never had before.  
  
She was sitting rather calmly on her knees. Her arms were resting on them, sliced open from her wrists to midway up her forearm, crimson liquid seeping heavily from the wounds. Her arms pointed down towards the floor, allowing the blood to pool in her hands, before joining a puddle on the wood floor.  
  
She looked up at him. A blank stare in her brown eyes, though tears leaked from them. She let out a sound, a light laugh that dissolved into a whimpering cry.  
  
He ran out of the room to the top of the staircase. One of the maids was passing on the landing below. "Jessa, get Irina now! And call Dr. Andreas. Tell her to come immediately!"  
  
He turned back to the room immediately and sprinted into Sydney's bathroom. He grabbed all the towels he could. There were only white towels. He hurried back over to Sydney. "Where is it?" he demanded.  
  
She looked at him as if unsure what he was talking about.  
  
"What did you use? Where is it?"  
  
She looked down at her right hand. All he could see was blood, but he felt her hand and produced the razor blade, useless and slippery with blood. He took it away, and began wrapping the hand towels around her forearms. The first two soaked so immediately that he couldn't wrap them and tossed them aside.  
  
Irina appeared in the doorway. She came forward and he saw her eyes fill with horror at the sight of the red towels, the red puddles on the floor, her daughter's red hands. The red spots now on his own clothes.  
  
Her eyes turned glassy, but she moved to Sydney's other side and took charge of wrapping her other arm so he could focus on the other one. They lifted them above her head, trying to keep the blood from rushing towards the open veins. Sydney's eyes were fluttering. She was losing consciousness.  
  
"Sydney!" Irina called. Her accent was heavy in her distress.  
  
Sydney's eyes opened again momentarily then started to close again.  
  
"SYDNEY!"  
  
Irina was losing her calm. Tears started down her cheeks as she continued to whisper her daughter's name.  
  
Sark felt like he should go grab more towels but he didn't dare leave them. He looked to the doorway where a couple of guards and the maid had gathered and were whispering amongst themselves. "More towels," he ordered. He looked back just as Sydney slumped, limp and unconscious.  
  
He looked at Irina. Her eyes were wide as she just stared at the blood._  
  
Before the maid had returned with more towels, Dr. Andreas came. She had hurried into the room with two assistants carrying equipment behind her. She knew she had to be prepared for anything whenever she came to Irina's. Though for a moment, even the doctor looked unsettled by the scene. She allowed them stay as they set up equipment ad stripped the bed, replacing it with sterile sheets, and laying Sydney on it. But then she'd urged them both to leave the room. Irina had tried to refuse.  
  
_"She's my daughter," Irina whispered, shakily.  
  
"And I'm going to take good care of her."_  
  
Then Dr. Andreas had tossed him a firm look, and he'd escorted Irina from the room. He took her to her bedroom, thinking she would want to change clothes but she'd just sat down in a chair once they were in the room. She'd looked at him, tears still rimming her eyes.  
  
_"Why?"_  
  
He wished he'd had an answer for her. But instead he had to let her question disappear into the air. He'd lowered his eyes, unable to take how intensely she stared at him. When he looked at her again, she was frozen in staring at her own hands. Or rather at her daughter's blood on her own hands. He saw her hands tremor ever so slightly.  
  
He went into her bathroom and washed his hands thoroughly, getting as much of the blood off as he could. He wiped his hands dry and filled a basin with hot soapy water. He had taken the basin and towels back to Irina and began cleaning her hands. The towels again turned from white to red. He had to refill the basin once to get newly, clear water before he finished.  
  
As he had toweled her last hand dry, she blinked and clarity returned to her. She looked at him approvingly. An expression of tired, calm settled on her features.  
  
_"Thank you."_  
  
He had nodded, then gathered up the dirty towels and left. He'd gone to his room and shed his clothes. He'd realized he would probably never get the blood out of them and discarded them. He'd taken a shower, put on fresh clothes and gone downstairs. Irina had apparently already done the same. She was settled in the sitting room looking through a folder, with a perfect view of the door to Sydney's room so she'd see the second Dr. Andreas emerged.  
  
They had sat in silence as they waited. He'd thumbed through a book. He'd risen immediately when Dr. Andreas came out of the room and down the steps. She'd looked drained. Irina sat stiffly in her chair and watched the doctor carefully.  
  
_"She's all right. We've stitched up her cuts and bandaged over them. Her heart rate and blood pressure are coming back up. I'd like to leave one my assistants here tonight to keep an eye on her. And I'll come back to check her progress in the morning. She did lose a lot of blood. She's going to be pretty weak for awhile. She needs to remain supervised at all times. She's resting comfortably now, but when she wakes up she might try to tear out her stitches." The doctor paused and turned to Irina. "I need to talk to you, alone. Just for a minute." She looked at Sark. "You can see her now, if you wish."_  
  
He had gone back upstairs. The room was darkened. Sydney had been pale with an IV in one arm. One of the assistants kept her eyes constantly on a machine monitoring Sydney's heart rate. The other assistant began packing up equipment and left the room. It was only a few minutes before Irina and Dr. Andreas entered. Irina had sat down in a chair beside Sydney's bed and examined the bandages on her daughter's arms. Dr. Andreas stayed only a minute more before leaving. Her last assistant had then taken a short break.  
  
Irina had stroked Sydney's hair, and gently held one of her hands, examining it somberly. Sark had exited quietly, leaving mother and daughter alone.  
  
Irina had remained in vigil at Sydney's bedside for two days, taking short breaks only when Dr. Andreas was there or one of the assistants changed Sydney's bandages. Sark made sure Jessa brought Irina meals but she hadn't eaten much of them even as she was insistent Sydney eat.  
  
He went into the room on the third night to give Irina a tracking report and realized just how exhausted she looked.  
  
_"You need to sleep."  
  
"She can't be left alone."  
  
"I can sit with her. I can stay here until you return."  
  
Irina hesitated. "If she wakes up-"  
  
"If you she asks for you, I'll send for you."  
  
"If she wants to talk-"  
  
"I'll listen."_  
  
That answer had satisfied Irina and she had reluctantly left the room. He'd chosen a book off the shelf and settled in the chair Irina had just vacated. Sydney stirred once, several hours later.  
  
_"Mom," she murmured, softly, before opening her eyes._  
  
She had seen it was only him and scanned the room.  
  
_"I can get her for you." He closed the book.  
  
She looked at him a moment. "No," she whispered. She turned her head and her eyes settled on a pitcher of water on the nightstand._  
  
He'd filled a glass and held it to her lips whole she took a few sips. Then, her eyes had slid closed again. He'd taken several more turns sitting with Sydney during the week before she was up and around again and the weeks after. They made sure she ate regularly, though she didn't always manage to keep the food down. Dr. Andreas checked in regularly, prescribing Sydney vitamins and antibiotics. They kept her away from sharp objects though he never saw her show much interest in them anyway. He had known it was possible that she lacked the energy to try again, rather than the interest.  
  
There was still something very unsettled about her. She slept fitfully many of the nights he sat with her. She woke up crying one night, stumbled out of the bed, and towards the hallway. He leapt up to follow her, as she headed for the stairs blinded by sobs.  
  
_"Sydney! Sydney, stop!"  
  
He grabbed her by her upper arms to keep her from getting any closer to the steps.  
  
She turned to face him, hyperventilating. "She can't breathe! She can't breathe!" Sydney cried, gulping down air. Her eyes widened with a new realization. "I can't--" She inhaled and exhaled breathlessly._  
  
The commotion brought Irina out of her study and up the stairs.  
  
_"Calm down, Sydney. Try to breathe normally."_  
  
She'd placed an arm around her daughter and guided her back to bed. He checked on them hours later. Sydney was sleeping soundly. Irina stood at the dresser, holding a photograph. She looked up when she saw him in the doorway and turned towards him. He had approached her and she'd pointed to the bright eyed baby in the picture.  
  
_"Taryn. Her name is Taryn," Irina told him softly. She smiled sadly at the picture and then looked at Sydney._  
  
He'd been struck by a realization.  
  
_"She told you the reason she came here."  
  
Irina put the picture down and looked at him with cold eyes.  
  
"No matter what you thought your reason was at the time, when you realize you've abandoned a person you loved and a child that needed you, your _reason_ doesn't matter anymore."_  
  
She'd spat the words out bitterly and then told him to get out with her eyes. He'd exited the room immediately.  
  
Dr. Andreas let them know it was safe to allow Sydney up around again after eight days. They helped Sydney back into her former routine, with trips to the library and the courtyard. Sark continued to help supervise her, though he noted Irina hovering around her much more than she had before.  
  
Sydney had actually read the books in the library, or at least turned the pages. She actually walked around the courtyard, instead of just staring at the trees. He found himself actually pleased about her doing such little things. Sometimes he joined her for a walk in the courtyard. He talked to her; she rarely said anything back to him.  
  
_"I'd like to apologize about before. The assumptions I made about why you came here."  
  
"Sark!"_  
  
He'd never heard her say his name with such a startling urgency before. He turned to see her swaying beside him, reached out and caught her before she fully collapsed. He'd lifted her carefully and called her name. Then, he shifted her in his arms to check her vitals. She was breathing, though her pulse seemed a little weak. He'd lifted her and carried her back inside. He had called for Jessa the second he was in the door, and went to lay Sydney down on the couch in the sitting room.  
  
It was Irina who'd appeared.  
  
_"What happened?" she questioned, seriously._  
  
He hadn't had the chance to answer before Sydney started to come around. Jessa arrived in answer to his calls but Irina simply ordered she bring Sydney some water. He watched Irina feel Sydney's forehead, take her pulse and softly ask her some questions. Then, Sydney had sat up and Jessa had helped her upstairs. He'd given Irina a questioning frown.  
  
_"Do you want me to call Dr. Andreas?"  
  
"It's not necessary. She's going to lie down in her room."  
  
"Not necessary?"  
  
"It's normal. She isn't ill. She just needs to rest."  
  
"She's not ill," he stated, calmly, processing her words.  
  
Irina looked at him with a mild amusement in her eyes._  
  
He'd gone upstairs, relieved Jessa and stood in the doorway. Sydney was lying on the bed on top of all the bedding with her eyes closed. Her hands were resting on her stomach ever so lightly. As he moved to the chair, she'd opened her eyes and looked at him. He'd managed a soft smile for her but the look returned in her brown eyes couldn't have been described as anything other than fearful.  
  
The brown eyes that were looking at him now were just as fearful.  
  
He looked down at the child and tried to give her a soft smile. She blinked, her eyes filling with tears. She trembled when he moved closer to her. He reached into his pocket, uncapped a syringe and injected it into her arm. She whimpered, but in moments her eyes slid closed again.  
  
He went into the bathroom and washed his face. As he arranged his suit again, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Droplets of red dotted the right arm of his dress shirt, apparently from Taryn's wound. He sighed. Another shirt he'd discard.  
  
He exited the bathroom and settled back in his chair. It'd be hours before Taryn woke up again. He glanced away from her as the door from the cockpit opened. "You wanted me to alert you. We'll be landing soon."  
  
Sark nodded to the copilot who disappeared back into the cockpit. He looked at Taryn again. She was sleeping peacefully.  
  
_Reviews and quotes go hand in hand..._


	7. Torment of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Giving sympathy to the devil..._  
_7th_ in the _Cry of Orphans_ series  
**RATED PG-13 (for some disturbing content)**  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_"__I have spent the last eight years picturing you in some dark place, hoping you were suffering the way Taryn and I have suffered."  
  
"What makes you think I wasn't?"_  
  
**TORMENT OF ORPHANS **  
By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2004  
  
She didn't dare turn her back on him.  
  
She pushed aside branches and stalked carefully through the dense foliage. She made sure she kept nearly the same pace as him, never more than a step or two ahead.  
  
There was a time when he was the person she trusted most in the entire world. But now, after everything she'd done, she knew she couldn't. Not anymore. Not when only two days before she knew he'd wanted nothing more than to launch himself through the glass that separated them and force the location of his daughter out of her.  
  
_Vaughn beat the glass. "You tell me where she is! You tell me where my daughter is!"_  
  
Sydney had known instantly what she feared since the day she turned herself in had happened. That Sloane would realize what she was up to and take action to stop her, or at least slow her down.  
  
_"I don't know exactly where she is. But if you get me out of here, I can find her."  
  
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare use her as a bargaining chip for your freedom! Is that why you did this?"  
  
She glared at him. "There is a possibility that Taryn is safe, and there is the possibility that she is in a lot of trouble. But I can't tell you which as long as I'm in this cell."  
  
"Taryn isn't safe until I know where she is and she's back at home where she belongs."  
  
"I can get her back for you. But you _have_ to get me out of here."_  
  
Vaughn hadn't said anything. He'd just walked away. She'd sat down on her cot to wait. There wasn't time to waste. It was less than an hour later that the gates rose again, but it wasn't Vaughn.  
  
_"Dad."  
  
"Did you do this?"  
  
"I did not plan for this to happen."_  
  
Her father had summed her up with her eyes.  
  
_"But you knew it could."  
  
"I knew it was a possibility."  
  
"And you didn't warn us."  
  
"I took precautions. Before I turned myself in. Before I started giving up information about Sloane."  
  
"Sloane has her?!"  
  
"I don't know. And I can't find out from inside here."  
  
"Tell me who to contact," Jack demanded.  
  
"It doesn't work that way, Dad." She was supposed to have more time. She needed more time. "I couldn't risk...it's information I have to access personally. I have to be out of here to do that."  
  
"Sydney, your deal isn't going to be finished for another month. They can't just let you go."  
  
"Talk to them, please. They'll listen to you."_  
  
They had listened to him, but not in the way she'd expected. It was hours later that Jack returned.  
  
_"They've agreed," her father announced.  
  
"When do we leave?"  
  
Jack stiffened. "I'm not a member of the CIA anymore. They couldn't release you into my custody. They had to choose an agent."_  
  
It was then that Vaughn had appeared at the end of the hallway. His brow was lined with his worry wrinkles. He looked lost and concerned. Weary. Then, he'd looked up to see her looking at him. His face had immediately hardened into a glare as he'd come down the hall.  
  
He'd waited outside the cell while she'd said goodbye to her father. Then, when Jack had headed down the hallway, Vaughn moved to the doorway stiffly. She realized he didn't want to actually enter the cell. He didn't want to be that close to her. She didn't blame him.  
  
_"I'm sorry."  
  
"If you even attempt to escape--"  
  
"I won't," she assured him. "This isn't about me. It's about Taryn."_  
  
He stared at her incredulously. As if she had no right to mention her name, let alone claim to be concerned.  
  
It was an uncomfortably quiet walk to the car and ride to the airstrip. They stepped onto the plane. The pilot turned to them expectantly and she'd given him a location in South America. The plane ride was hours long but there was no conversation. They couldn't talk to each other. They could barely look at each other.  
  
When the plane finally landed, they got a car and she drove him to the compound. He took one look at the imposing structure and glared at her.  
  
_"We don't have the manpower or the equipment to penetrate a facility like this."  
  
"We don't need it."_  
  
He had looked perplexed a moment, then his face formed into an expression heavy with contempt. She pulled up to the gate. One of the guards approached the vehicle, weapon ready and face stern. As he neared her car window, he immediately grinned. He eagerly ordered the gate opened for them. She was glad that the commander of the guard ordered everyone to their posts so she caused as little commotion as possible.  
  
_"We weren't expecting you."  
  
"You should always expect me," she reprimanded, playfully._  
  
The commander had chuckled, but shifted uncomfortably. She'd let him know it was going to be a quick visit and then lead Vaughn to an interior study. He'd sat stiffly in a chair while she'd accessed her computer. He watched her, completely disgusted in some way. An encrypted message was awaiting her on the network and its contents caused her to let out a relieved sigh.  
  
_"Vaughn, she's safe. He has her."  
  
"Who has her?"_  
  
She had only hesitated a moment.  
  
_"Sark. He got to her before Sloane could."  
  
She could see it in his eyes that this news was no relief to him.  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"A safe house. Couple hours from here."_  
  
The message revealed that Sloane was likely close behind. Sydney let the commander know she was going to need a truck and four guards to come with them. When they neared the safe house, they couldn't get any response from inside. They split up into groups of two, going through the jungle to the safe house from various directions just in case.  
  
Sydney could tell Vaughn was about to ask a question.  
  
"That compound, was it one of your mother's facilities?"  
  
"No." She paused. "One of mine."  
  
He halted, staring at her. "Did Sark take the pictures?"  
  
She stopped. "Not him personally, but yes, he ordered it."  
  
Vaughn narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"  
  
"Does it matter? He gave them to me."  
  
"And that's the only reason they were taken. For you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He gave her a cold stare, pushed away the branch in front of him and took the lead. She started to follow but almost immediately he turned on her again. "You told your father you took precautions. Sark was your precaution?"  
  
"Vaughn--"  
  
"You trusted him to keep Taryn safe. Before the CIA, before your father, before _me_." He fixed a piercing stare on her. "You trust _Sark_, an assassin."  
  
"Because he was going to have the most up-to-date information on Sloane's movements. I promise you, Taryn is safe with him."  
  
"How can you be sure?"  
  
"I know him, Vaughn." She paused and continued more softly. "He wouldn't hurt her."  
  
Vaughn raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "What do you mean you...know him?"  
  
She pushed past him. She doubted he'd understand, even if she did actually try to explain where she'd been, why, and what she'd learned. And she didn't expect him to. No matter what she said it was going to come back to the fact that she'd failed Taryn as a mother.  
  
_And left him behind._  
  
He had no idea that the first few days after she left were a blur of airports, phone calls and hotel rooms. She'd regretted not leaving her father a note so she'd left him an answering machine message. Then, she'd made calls to her former contacts, but only the ones she knew wouldn't reveal to her father that they'd talked to her. Food had been unappealing. Sleep had been impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could hear was Taryn screaming.  
  
She was thankful when a contact finally let her know locations that could be areas of activity for The Man's organization. She glanced through the information. The activity reports from St. Petersburg decided her destination. She found Sark there, but she hadn't had a plan, beyond simply telling him the truth.  
  
_"Sark, I need you to tell me where my mother is."_  
  
It hadn't gone over as well as she had hoped. She'd ended up, handcuffed, blindfolded and locked in a cell for two days. But she didn't even try to escape.  
  
_Maybe being treated like a prisoner was what she deserved. _  
  
Sark finally took her from the cell and after another blindfolded transit, she was finally left to stand alone in a room. Her hands weren't secured. She could have pulled the blindfold off, but she feared doing anything that might cause this meeting with Irina to be cancelled. She had to follow their rules.  
  
It didn't seem real when the blindfold was removed and her mother stood less than two feet away from her. All she could do was cry. She'd babbled out her reasons so quickly, she didn't even recall what she said. What she remembered was the sincerely concerned look in her mother's eyes. And the force with which Irina had embraced her. And how young and safe she'd felt with her mother's arms around her.  
  
_And how many times as a child she had just wished her mother was there to hold her._  
  
It made her sob harder.  
  
She didn't know how long she'd stood there, with Irina silently stroking her hair. She had finally been the one to pull away, as it seemed her Irina would have been willing to hold onto her forever. She hadn't been able to speak and when she looked at Irina's face, she was surprised to see her mother's tears.  
  
_"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."  
  
"Sydney, you can stay here as long as you like."_  
  
The words were immediately reinforced with actions. Sydney had been escorted upstairs to a spacious and richly furnished room moments later, being told to ask the maid, Jessa, if she needed anything else.  
  
_But Jessa couldn't get her what she needed. _  
  
She had lain back on the bed, her mind swimming with thoughts. The realization of what she'd done had started to sink in.  
  
She'd left LA, her teaching, her father. One message on his answering machine wasn't going to alleviate his fears about where she was and how she was doing.  
  
She'd left Vaughn. She hadn't even had the decency to say goodbye to his face. But she couldn't risk that.  
  
_He wouldn't have let her go._  
  
He would have wanted to know why and how could she possibly tell him that she'd almost smothered their baby? She couldn't bear to see the way he would have looked at her if she'd told him that. And she couldn't spend another night in that house. Even though it meant abandoning him, abandoning Taryn. Making her child grow up without a mother. At least, she'd get to grow up.  
  
Sydney had curled up on the bed, choking back another sob. She cried herself to sleep.  
  
She only managed sleep a couple hours at a time so for the first few days, she barely felt the energy to get out of bed, let alone to leave the room. Jessa brought her meals. Her mother came daily and once inquired if there was anything else Sydney needed.  
  
_"I packed some things before I left. But I put them in storage."  
  
"Where? I'll arrange to have it brought here."_  
  
She began getting her boxes at the end of the week. It had been obvious they'd been opened and searched. Her laptop and gun were absent for the obvious reasons. She unpacked the boxes, adding her touches of home to the room. She had hesitated when she pulled out her photographs. There were empty frames on the dresser she could easily display them in. Will. Weiss. Her father. Vaughn. Taryn. She wasn't sure she could bear to have their pictures staring at her.  
  
_And she wasn't sure how much longer she could bear not seeing their faces._  
  
Fitting the pictures in the frames was easy. Silencing the thoughts in her head was not.  
  
What were they doing now? How much did they miss her? Were they looking for her? Did Vaughn hate her? Did he think she hated him? He couldn't have been expecting this. He had to be wondering why. And when she thought of him, even she had to sometimes ask herself why.  
  
_Vaughn slipped into the bedroom and gave her a playful smile.  
  
She looked up from the book she'd been reading. "What?"  
  
"Our princess is sleeping."  
  
"Already? You just--"  
  
He crossed the room and climbed into bed, his smile widening. "Already."  
  
"You'll have to take her to the zoo more often." She closed her book and turned to face him.  
  
He laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "You'll have to come next time."  
  
She raised an eyebrow and moved to hover over him, her lips inches from his. "But then, I'd be tired too."  
  
He rested his hands on her waist. "Mmm, you're right. Never mind."  
  
"Uh huh." She leaned in and kissed him. _  
  
Avoiding Taryn wasn't so hard. Vaughn was understanding. Maybe she could have kept it up. For a few more months, at least. And Taryn would go to school eventually.  
  
But what kind of life would that have been for her daughter? She would have realized her mother was avoiding her eventually. What if she ever asked? What could her answer possibly be? And even Vaughn couldn't accept her excuses forever. And if she told him the truth, he was never going to trust her again. Why should he? She couldn't assure him it would never happen again. She had no idea how it had happened the first time.  
  
The scene replayed in her head a thousand times a day. What she could have done differently. How she could have stopped herself. And when she finally tired of that, she thought of how she could explain it to someone else. She knew she'd have to eventually. And there was one person she thought might understand. Irina. She always expected her mother to start asking questions each time she visited. Demanding some type of answer of reason. But she never did.  
  
Until finally Sydney had her own questions to ask.  
  
_"Mom, what was I like...as a baby?"  
  
An amused smile played across her mother's face. "Stubborn."  
  
"Difficult?"  
  
"At times."  
  
"Did you ever...wish I had never been born?"_  
  
It was then that her mother had come to sit right beside her on the bed. Irina gave her a searching stare, looking hurt.  
  
_"Sydney...no. Never."  
  
Sydney started to shake her head, her chin quivering. "But in Taipei, you said--"  
  
"I said those things for the same reason I shot you; to continue my charade of loyalty to Cuvee, but I never meant a word. I love you, Sydney. I have since the day you were born."  
  
Sydney couldn't stop the tears._  
  
Her mother had moved to embrace her but Sydney had turned away and curled up on the bed.  
  
Her mother had loved her. Still loved her. Her mother, a Russian spy, who'd married her father under false pretenses, had managed to love her. And she couldn't love a child she'd planned to have with a man she loved.  
  
_She didn't want to be held. She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again._  
  
She had to force herself to do the simplest of daily activities. To get out of bed. To get dressed. To leave her bedroom and go to the library or out into the courtyard. She did those things for her mother, rather than for herself, knowing she'd simply worry Irina more if she didn't. Even though she'd gone there to get away, she didn't want to be an added burden. And yet she knew she was.  
  
Sark was watching her constantly. He was normally discreet, but she knew he didn't feel she should be there. He'd all but said so when he did happen to speak to her. He was suspicious, accusing even. Even as he'd returned her laptop to her, he wouldn't give her back her gun. She wouldn't have dreamed of using her gun against him or anyone else in her mother's compound.  
  
_Against herself maybe, but not them._  
  
The thought scared her and comforted her at the same time.  
  
It probably would have sounded absurd to anyone else that thinking of ways to die was a comfort, but she didn't belong there. She didn't deserve to be hidden away there as if she were the one in need of protection. She was lying to her mother by staying and not telling her what had happened with Taryn. But she couldn't stand the thought of how horrified her mother would be if she told her the truth.  
  
_I almost killed my baby._  
  
She couldn't believe that Irina would still want her to stay once she heard those words. Not that she would blame her.  
  
But she hadn't had any place to go. She couldn't go back to Vaughn.  
  
She _wanted_ to. She didn't dare.  
  
_I almost killed my baby._  
  
She couldn't risk that happening again. She could never, ever allow herself anywhere near that child again. And Vaughn wouldn't understand why. And how could she possibly look him in the eye and tell him?  
  
_I almost killed my baby._  
  
He'd have hated her. And what if for some reason he hadn't?  
  
_She didn't deserve his forgiveness. _  
  
She hadn't deserved to be allowed to return and be accepted by him. She hadn't deserved for him to be looking for her, to miss her, to be wishing for her to come back.  
  
That was what had made the decision so shortly after her arrival so clear. She had looked into the faces of the photographs and on the dresser and realized what she deserved, what she _owed_ them.  
  
She'd taken a necklace from her jewelry box. Sydney had taken it from the things her mother had left behind when she faked her death. A simple golden chain. But she wanted Irina to have it back. She'd placed it in the study on her way down to dinner that night. She could have skipped dinner but she wanted to try and keep the evening as normal as possible for her mother. But she couldn't even pretend to eat a meal that night. Her stomach was in knots. A part of her wanted to give Irina a hug, say good-bye in some way but she knew something like that would only arouse suspicions. She couldn't risk that. And she wasn't sure she could stop herself if she spent several hours in library as usual. So, she hadn't.  
  
She had gone upstairs to her room. Maybe they'd notice the difference, but they'd probably just assume she went to bed early. She removed the sweater she had on at dinner, leaving on her short-sleeved, red blouse.  
  
_She went into the bathroom and took out the razor blade. She swallowed, and outstretched her arm over the sink. But it wasn't the right place._  
  
She had considered the notepad on the table by her bed. She could have tried to write a note, tried to explain. But only two words had come to mind.  
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
But that hadn't been good enough. It didn't matter how sorry she was. It wasn't going to undo what happened.  
  
_She went back into the bedroom, putting herself in clear view of the family photos. Her witnesses. She started to sit down on the bed but somehow she sunk to the floor._  
  
It wasn't going to make it any less terrible. Even though she was the only person who knew, it didn't make it any less of a crime.  
  
_At least, she was going to be spared her mother's disappointment. She drove the blade into her right wrist. And her father's disappointment. She bit her lip, dug deeper and dragged it back across her forearm, towards her elbow, a stream of red chasing behind it.  
  
And Vaughn's disappointment. She looked at his pictures and then at the ring on her finger as she repositioned the blade above her left wrist. Trembling, she sliced in deeply and again dragged it back. And most of all Taryn's. Her right hand was numbing. She sliced into her left arm again, quickly. The wound in her right arm rained onto her left as she did so._  
  
She deserved to die. There was nothing else she could possibly do to make up for all that she'd done.  
  
_She rested her hands on her knees, pointing them down. She leaned her head back against the bed and closed her eyes, trying not to focus on the stinging pain in both arms._  
  
Even if dying hurt, it couldn't possibly hurt as much as living.  
  
Nothing she'd done in the three weeks since she'd left Vaughn had felt quite as right or calming as sitting there with her own blood pouring from her open veins. She didn't know how long she sat there. And then the most hilarious thing had happened. She'd opened her eyes and Sark had come in. He'd been horrified to see her sitting there. She hadn't been able to hold back a laugh at first. And then, she'd realized he wasn't going to help her. Helping would have been to leave her alone. But he was going to try to stop her. She realized she was too weak to stop him. And then her calm had disappeared.  
  
_And all she had wanted to do was cry._  
  
He had taken the razor blade and started wrapping her arms. She tried to pull her arms away but she saw they didn't move. And then her mother was there, wrapping too and she stopped thinking about pulling away. It had started to get darker shortly after that. She felt sleepy and couldn't help but start to close her eyes.  
  
_"Sydney!"_  
  
Her mother had sounded so faraway, but she'd tried to open her eyes to see her. Sydney had seen her mother's waist but couldn't lift her head to see her face, before she felt her eyes drooping closed again.  
  
_"SYDNEY!"_  
  
She really had wanted to open her eyes that time. She couldn't. She didn't hear her again after that.  
  
But her mother's was the first face she'd clearly seen when she had woken up. Irina held onto her bandaged arms and hands as if they were delicate and precious in someway. Sydney wanted to tell her mother her hands were not precious at all. Maybe if she'd had something bigger than a razor blade, she would have tried to sever them completely.  
  
Her mother was always there when she awoke for the first couple of days. On the third day, she finally felt strong enough to sit up. Irina had been different that day. There was a look on her face that Sydney had interpreted to mean that there was something wrong. At the very least, she knew something important had been on Irina's mind.  
  
_Irina moved to her chair beside the bed and looked down at Sydney's bandages. "Sydney, when you did this, did you know?"  
  
Sydney gave Irina a perplexed look. "Know?"  
  
"That you were pregnant?"_  
  
At first, she hadn't been able to say anything. She kept waiting for her mother to correct herself, admit she'd misspoken. But she didn't. And finally, Sydney had to ask.  
  
_"The baby?"  
  
"Is stable," Irina assured her.  
  
Another baby. How could she have another baby? How could she drag it into this mess she'd made of her life? How was she going to tell Vaughn? How was this going to be any better than the last time? This one wasn't even _born_ yet and she'd already almost killed it, along with herself.  
  
"I didn't know," she whispered.  
  
She should have known. She should have suspected. If she'd stepped back and thought about how she'd been feeling lately, maybe she would have. But she'd just abandoned her entire life. She hadn't been able to think of anything besides that. This could not happen. Not here. Not now._  
  
Sydney knew her mother could have only half understood why she'd started shaking her head, broken down into sobs and proclaimed that she couldn't have this baby. She had reached for IV, trying to rip it out. But Irina had grabbed her arms and held her still. Sydney had forced herself to lie there calmly again and her mother had let her go. Irina sat down just on the edge of the bed and regarded her with a concerned eye.  
  
_"Why, Sydney?" she asked, gently. "What do you mean, you can't have this baby?"  
  
"I can't be its mother. I can't _be_ a mother."  
  
Her mother's eyes flashed guilt momentarily, then she looked back at her, determined. "Yes, you can."  
  
Sydney shook her head.  
  
"Sydney-"  
  
"I'll kill it."  
  
Irina fell silent, alarm and confusion crossing her face.  
  
Sydney blinked hard, realizing what she'd just said, out loud, to her mother. Tears filled her eyes again and she rolled over, burying her face and sobbing into her pillow. It was only a moment before Sydney felt her mother's hand touch her head and begin stroking her hair. _  
  
Sydney still didn't know how long Irina must have sat there. She had fallen asleep.  
  
Irina, Sark and Dr. Andreas had been in and out of the room in the days after that. She was never alone. They would make Jessa sit with her if they had other things to do. Her meals were brought to her and she wasn't allowed to simply move the food about her plate.  
  
_"You have to eat, Sydney," her mother said, sternly._  
  
She had listened. Because it took less energy to eat than it did to fight about it.  
  
_"You're going to need to take these prenatal vitamins to supplement your diet," Dr. Andreas explained. _  
  
Sydney hadn't given the bottle of pills in front of her more than a glance.  
  
_"You'll have to start taking better care of your health, for you and the baby."  
  
Sydney didn't look at the doctor and she didn't say anything._  
  
She assumed now that the doctor had told her mother how uninterested she'd seemed in the vitamins. They were given to her with her meals and they watched her take them carefully. She didn't see much point in trying not to take the vitamins.  
  
_But she didn't see much point in taking them either._  
  
She had spent five more days confined to bed. So she could rest and recuperate, the doctor had said. She wasn't sure she had in fact rested or recuperated at all. She slept, but she didn't feel any less fatigued. She ate, but she doubted it made a difference considering the food kept coming back up anyway.  
  
Her mother's daily visits put her on her edge. Sydney had expected her to bring up the pregnancy. She was certain their last conversation had given Irina plenty of questions.  
  
It was strange how one single piece of news had changed so completely the dynamics of her world once again. She thought her mother was the one person who would understand what had happened with Taryn. But she'd completely misjudged Irina on that. Leaving Vaughn and Taryn was supposed to be the right thing to do. But how could she possibly survive having another baby without him? And slitting her wrists was supposed to free her. Instead, she'd ended up even more trapped. Supervised, confined to her room, having her eating habits monitored. She doubted they would care so much if she wasn't pregnant. She _knew_ they wouldn't. They hadn't before.  
  
She was thankful when the doctor finally said it was safe for her to be up and around again. She doubted they would keep watching her forever. They'd taken the sharpest of objects from her bedroom. She wouldn't have tried wrist cutting again anyway.  
  
_It took too long._  
  
She thought about telling Irina she wanted to leave. She knew her mother picked up on that.  
  
_"Sydney if this has made you want to leave, to go back to Vaughn--"  
  
"I can't go back. I can't ever go back."_  
  
Going back to Vaughn was the furthest thing from her mind. But she had no place else to go. She couldn't run from being pregnant. She couldn't erase it as though it had never happened. She could try, but it'd be just like what happened with Taryn. Even if no one else knew, she'd know. She couldn't bear to be haunted by yet another child.  
  
She didn't have any way to escape. When she tired herself from the day and thoughts about her baby, she couldn't even use her former favorite escape, sleep. Her dreams were dark and strange. Her nightmares were flashbacks.  
  
_Sydney dragged herself off the couch, and stumbled down the hallway to Taryn's bedroom. She walked over to the crib. Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney. Sydney leaned over the crib, rubbing Taryn's belly, trying to give her some kind of comfort. _  
  
She had watched herself helplessly, wanting nothing more than to change the outcome of her dream.  
  
_"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay," Sydney told the baby. Taryn kicked Sydney's hand away, and flailed her arms, completely angry. "Taryn, you need to calm down," Sydney said more firmly. Her own head ached worse with the cries. Pounded. "Taryn, please...."_  
  
She would fight to maintain control. To not become so upset. To force herself to just walk away.  
  
It never worked.  
  
_Sydney covered the baby's mouth wit her hand, but it barely muffled the cry. She stepped back and grabbed a soft white pillow from the nearby rocking chair. It covered Taryn's entire head. The crying was muffled then turned into a cough. Then, it was silent._  
  
It happened again and again.  
  
_Sydney stared down at the kicking baby legs and arms pushing from beneath the pillow._  
  
And she couldn't help but panic. Because sometimes in the dreams it ended differently. Sometimes, she would pull the pillow away but it didn't matter. It was already too late. Taryn would stay silent. And she'd run from the crib in horror.  
  
_"Sydney! Sydney, stop!"  
  
Hands gripped her arms firmly. She turned, blinded by tears, hyperventilating. "She can't breathe! She can't breathe!" She gulped down air, but it felt as though her lungs didn't inflate. She widened her eyes, fully taking in her surroundings as she tried again to breathe. "I can't--" She inhaled and exhaled breathlessly.  
  
Her eyes started to tear as she felt her mother's hand on her back.  
  
"Calm down, Sydney. Try to breathe normally."  
  
She tried to inhale and exhale normally, as they walked back to her bedroom. But the thought of Taryn lifeless in the crib quickened her breathing again as she started to cry. It didn't matter that it wasn't real. It could have been real. It could have so easily been real. She walked over and grabbed the picture of the baby from the dresser and stared at it. She sunk onto the bed, holding it.  
  
"What's her name?" her mother asked quietly, reminding Sydney she was still there.  
  
"Taryn."  
  
"Sydney," Irina said calmly. "What happened to Taryn?"  
  
The small arms and legs flailed and kicked. She could feel the small baby fighting her from beneath the pillow. Fighting for air. Fighting to live.  
  
"She can't breathe," Sydney whispered.  
  
"Why not?" Irina paused only a moment. "What did you...do?"  
  
Sydney swallowed and didn't look at her mother as she spoke. "I put a pillow over her head." She looked down. "She wouldn't stop crying and I put a pillow over her head," she repeated. What kind of excuse was that? How had that ever seemed like a reason? "And then she was quiet."  
  
Irina watched her, forming her next question carefully. "What happened when you pulled the pillow away?"  
  
"She started to-to cry." Sydney's voice cracked again at the thought of her daughter's terrified screams. "I didn't tell Vaughn. I didn't tell anyone. I just...I just left." Sydney looked at Irina's face, needing to look her mother in the eye. "I tried to kill her."  
  
Irina stared back at her, saying nothing.  
  
"I tried to kill her!" Sydney exclaimed, needing a reaction.  
  
"I heard you, Sydney." Her mother's voice was so calm. Her face had almost no expression, except for her concerned eyes.  
  
Where was the anger? The contempt?  
  
"I was supposed to be her mother. I was supposed to protect her! I was supposed to love her..." Sydney's voice trailed off as she stared at the picture.  
  
Sydney felt her mother gently place an arm around her and stiffened. She looked at Irina incredulously. "How can you..."  
  
Irina stared at her with glassy eyes, somehow still full of love and concern. "I can't condemn you for what you've done. You've already condemned yourself."  
  
"I don't know if I loved her." Sydney sniffled. She'd said the words. She thought she'd felt them but if she truly loved her then how could she have tried to hurt her? "She's my daughter and I don't know if I loved her." _  
  
That thought had started her sobs again.  
  
The days following she realized she might have answered some of her mother's questions, but she hadn't relieved any of her worries. Sometimes she was certain Irina herself felt guilty for what had happened to Taryn. She hated seeing what a burden she was on her mother's mind. Sydney tried to do what she could to act like she was feeling better. She probably hadn't fooled her mother.  
  
Sydney had taken to wandering around the courtyard just for the exercise. She felt like she could think better when she was walking. Sark usually watched her when she was out there but she didn't mind that. She could see his suspicions about her were subsiding. Sometimes he'd walk with her, but he didn't try and get answers out of her as he had before. She wasn't sure if her mother had told him anything about why she'd come, and she didn't tell him. She didn't talk to him much at all.  
  
_"May I walk with you a moment?"  
  
She shrugged. She wasn't going to walk much longer. Her head hurt.  
  
"I'd like to apologize about before."  
  
The courtyard spun slightly. Something was wrong.  
  
"The assumptions I made about why you came here."  
  
Her legs began to buckle beneath her. She was passing out. "Sark!" It went dim before she had the chance to ask for his help._  
  
She had awakened on the couch in the sitting room and realized he must have carried her inside. He seemed to want to send for a doctor, but her mother assessed that her collapse was just a combination of her stress level and her pregnancy. Other than the nausea, it was one of the few physical signs she truly was pregnant. It had been something she'd been avoiding thinking about, but she realized she wasn't going to be able to do that for much longer.  
  
She had immediately listened to her mother's suggestion that she lie down for awhile. She hadn't been lying there for more than a few moments before Sark came in and sat with her. He had given her something that almost looked like a comforting smile. And she realized, he knew. She had rested her hand on her stomach, unsure anything would really be able to comfort her until she figured out what she was going to do.  
  
As if her mother could read her thoughts, they had lunch together the next day. Obviously, so they could talk about exactly that.  
  
_"Have you thought about what you would like to do?"  
  
"I've started to." Barely started. She really didn't have any idea.  
  
"I wanted you to know, that you and this baby are welcome here for as long as you need."  
  
Sydney stared at her plate. She hadn't expected her mother to forbid the baby from staying, but she almost wished she would. There was no way she could keep this baby with her. If the baby was going to be here, then she couldn't be. She raised her eyes towards her mother slowly. "I can't- I can't keep it."  
  
Her mother ate a bite of her salad. "Then, you'd like to send it to Vaughn?"  
  
Sydney could hardly swallow. "He doesn't even know. I haven't spoken to him since..." She trailed off, knowing she didn't even have to finish. Her mother knew these things already.  
  
"If you would like to talk to him, I can arrange for a secure phone call."  
  
Sydney glanced up at Irina in disbelief. Talk to Vaughn? How could she start that conversation? What could she possibly say? What if he asked her where she was? What if he asked to come home? Or worse, what if he asked her why she'd left? She shook her head. "No. Not yet. I don't even know if I want to send..." She stopped, surprised what she was saying. She pushed away her plate. "He must have so much to deal with already. Taryn won't even be two when this baby's born."  
  
"Sydney, if you don't want to raise it and you don't want him to raise it--"  
  
Sydney let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't _know_ what I want yet! I just know I _don't_ want to drag it into the mess I've made. And maybe letting it be raised by people not connected to all this, would be best."  
  
"Adoption." Her mother said the word in such a way that Sydney couldn't be sure what she thought of the idea.  
  
"Maybe. I need more time to think about it. "_  
  
She had abandoned her mother and her lunch. She'd headed for her bedroom, thinking she would lie down, but as she reached it a familiar feeling swept over her. She really had no desire to sleep. She would have preferred to break things. She paced the room that had formerly seemed so large. She left her room, and walked down the hallway towards the doors to a balcony. She pushed them open and immediately there were footsteps behind her. She should have known she wouldn't be left alone for long.  
  
_"I'm not going to jump," she stated, turning to look at him.  
  
Sark looked her in the eye. "Good." But he stayed less than two steps behind her as she walked onto the balcony.  
  
She sighed and pointed down towards a dirt path in the trees, not too far in the distance. "Is that part of this compound?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then, I want to go there."_  
  
Sark had raised an eyebrow at her and for a minute she'd thought he'd refuse. But he finally led the way, probably more because he was curious about what she'd do more than anything. She followed him in silence, then as they reached the path, she started to do some warm-up stretches making her plan obvious. She looked down the path, watching it wind into the trees and realized she had no idea where it went and she didn't care.  
  
She finished stretching and took off jogging, mildly amused by the fact that Sark still had to follow her everywhere. She picked up speed. Though it wasn't hard for him to keep up, he was in much better shape. She hadn't been running in weeks. She'd forgotten how good it felt. How free.  
  
She hated it when her legs tired and she was out of breath and forced to slow down to a walk. Sark slowed as well, matching the cadence of her walk exactly, though he didn't look nearly as out of breath. He watched her carefully.  
  
_"Perhaps you should rest."  
  
She looked at him. "I think I've rested long enough."_  
  
To prove her point, she'd taken off running again.  
  
She made it into a daily routine. Just as she'd spent time sitting around, she found her way out to the paths and ran them everyday. She could feel the tension built up inside her during the day before she did her run. Her appetite improved dramatically, especially as the nausea began to dissipate.  
  
The baby became more prominent in her thoughts. She thought of it every time she looked in the mirror. New clothes were placed in her closet when her own became tight around the waist. The baby wasn't going to be a bad dream and just go away. She had to decide what to do with it, what was best for it. It seemed a ridiculous thought. She'd nearly killed her first child. How could she have any idea what was best for this one?  
  
It kept her awake at night. She tossed and turned, not just from trying to find a comfortable position, but because her thoughts wouldn't stop. Would Vaughn want it? Would it just be too much of a burden? He loved Taryn, but they hadn't planned on this baby. And he certainly hadn't planned on single parenting. Was it fair to him to force yet another baby into his life that she wasn't going to help him take care of? But if she didn't give it to him, could she really give this baby up to strangers? Forever? Never telling Vaughn it existed. Not knowing how it was, if it was healthy or happy.  
  
She would climb out of bed, and just walk around the compound. She took off across the grounds one night and discovered a private gym. In the dark, she made enemies of various punching bags. She still remembered the regimen of exercises she'd practiced when she was in the CIA, despite the years it had been since she'd left.  
  
Her new routine was noted and apparently seen as an improvement. She found she wasn't looked at with the same constantly concerned eyes as she had been before. She even felt as though she was checked in on rather than monitored as she had been before. She realized now she had fooled them. Maybe she'd fooled herself as well.  
  
_And then, she'd realized she was going in circles._  
  
On the paths. In her head. She wasn't making any decisions and she didn't have forever to think about it. She was up before dawn one day thinking she would go for a run and she would make a final decision. She didn't stick to the paths. She allowed herself to contemplate _all_ the what ifs.  
  
_"They're still looking for you."_  
  
Her mother had told her. If she let them find her. If she went back just long enough to have the baby. Vaughn had been so understanding in the past.  
  
_"Sydney!" Vaughn hung up the phone and as she closed the door behind her. "Are you all right?"  
  
She looked at the worry wrinkles on his face and knew she couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine."  
  
"You've been gone two days. I've been calling everyone. What happened?"  
  
She sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. "I had to get away."  
  
"Why didn't you call? At least to let me know that you were okay?"  
  
She blinked. Why hadn't she? "I'm sorry."  
  
"Syd, I'm just glad you're home."_  
  
But she'd have to leave again. She couldn't go back just to hurt them. She knew there were other ways to get the baby to Vaughn, but she still dreaded adding to the responsibilities he already had. But if she just called him and told him. Even if she didn't answer any of his other questions just knowing about the baby, surely would intensify his search for her. And she couldn't bring the CIA to her mother.  
  
_She picked up her pace, running faster._  
  
Which took her back to adoption. The only downsides she had thought of were for herself. The baby would get a fresh start. Maybe she owed it that. Maybe that would spare it from all the pain she would surely bring it. She had thought getting out of the spy life had meant sparing the ones she loved the pain that seemed to follow her wherever she went. But it seemed maybe the only way to do that was to separate herself as well.  
  
_She made a wide turn, without slowing down and headed back. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears._  
  
But did she really have the right to make that decision for Vaughn too?  
  
_He didn't know. Maybe he didn't ever have to know._  
  
No! She had no right to decide that. For him. Or the baby.  
  
_Tears stung her eyes, her breaths came out fast and irregular._  
  
Maybe there was no right decision. Maybe after everything that had happened, the decision was simply going to be whatever would do the least damage.  
  
_The trees blurred ahead of her. _  
  
Maybe as long as it wasn't with her, it would be okay.  
  
_She inhaled sharply, almost unable to get a breath back out. She started slowing to a jog. She needed to walk and, cool down. But she leaned against a tree, almost unable to breathe. She gasped as a pain attacked her abdomen. She sank to the ground, her hands holding her side._  
  
And she realized maybe she wouldn't have to decide after all.  
  
_The pains were too sharp for her to stand up. She closed her eyes, trying to get the energy to shout for help. But she was still out of breath from her run. She sat there just trying to get her breathing under control.  
  
"Over here!"  
  
Footsteps ran towards her. She opened her eyes again, and saw the blurry forms of guards rushing towards her. As she felt herself being lifted, it all went dark._  
  
She had awakened back in her bedroom. Dr. Andreas and her mother were talking on the other side of the room, both seemed agitated. The doctor finally left the room and Irina approached the bed slowly, a helpless look in her eyes.  
  
_"How are you feeling?"  
  
The pain was gone and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She shrugged, trying to read her mother's eyes. "I don't know."  
  
"You're going to be okay."  
  
Sydney swallowed. "The baby?" she asked, softly.  
  
"Dr. Andreas is running some tests. She believes you overexerted yourself. For now, you need to rest." Irina spoke softly, her eyes watching Sydney ever so carefully.  
  
Sydney sighed. It was silent a moment and she looked her mother in the eye. "I didn't do it on purpose."  
  
Irina nodded.  
  
"I wasn't trying to hurt it or me. I wasn't thinking about running. I was trying to think of what to do. What should happen when this baby's born."  
  
"Did you decide what you want to do?"  
  
She hesitated but finally shook her head. "No!" she cried, tears coming to her eyes immediately. "I don't know! I still don't know. I don't know if I'll ever know. And whenever I think about it, I just--" The thoughts would just circled her head and all she wanted to do was to run away and hide. She was letting this baby down. She had a feeling she was going to mess up its life no matter what she decided. She trembled with new sobs and turned her face away.  
  
Her mother rubbed her back a few minutes, then gripped her shoulder. "Sydney. Sydney, look at me."  
  
Sydney obeyed, sniffling.  
  
Irina looked at her sincerely. "Sydney, if you just carry this baby to term, I will take care of any arrangements that must be made about it afterwards."  
  
Sydney took a few calming deep breaths, processing her mother's words.  
  
Irina continued, seriously, "I promise you, you won't have to decide what will be done with it, if that's not what you want."  
  
Sydney nodded slowly, finally able to stop crying.  
  
Irina moved away from the bed. "Try and get some sleep."_  
  
She had closed her eyes and actually slept. Without tossing and turning for hours. Without nightmares. She woke up feeling neither fatigued nor restless. She had thought over her mother's offer. A part of her was upset with herself for being so indecisive, but at the same time, she truly believed Irina could handle it. Her mother could surely see the situation in an entirely different way. Sydney doubted she would have any trouble at all making a decision.  
  
The weeks seemed to pass more quickly after that. Even though Dr. Andreas felt her exercise needed to be much more limited and she was more strictly monitored. But she didn't feel overwhelmed by dread at the thought of giving birth to this baby. She was able to settle into her second trimester and maybe for a while actually enjoy being pregnant.  
  
She certainly didn't mind having an excuse to raid the refrigerator in the middle of the night.  
  
_She pulled a pint of ice cream from the freezer and closed it behind her. She moved towards a drawer for a spoon, as a shadow appeared in the doorway. She glanced up, then shook her head with a smile. "So I'm up at 3am getting ice cream for the obvious reason," she gestured with the spoon towards her belly. "What's your excuse?"  
  
He raised a folder in his hand. "I was working."  
  
"And you still are." She had noted the careful look in his eyes; he was checking on her.  
  
He didn't deny it.  
  
She moved to the table and sat down. "Why are you here, Sark?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She dug into her ice cream and ate a spoonful before responding. "You must have asked me that at least a dozen times over the past four months. I thought it was my turn to ask you."  
  
Sark took a chair at the table. "I am here because this where your mother feels I am currently the most needed."  
  
Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "And did she decide that before or after you brought _me_ here?"  
  
"After."  
  
Sydney smiled, slightly. "You probably didn't expect me to be this much trouble, did you?"  
  
"On the contrary." He gave her a crooked smile. "I had no delusions about how much trouble you would be."  
  
"So," she nodded towards his file. "What exactly were you work--" She stopped abruptly, dropping her spoon.  
  
He stood. "Sydney?"  
  
She looked at him, as she rested a hand on her belly.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"The baby--"She cut herself off and looked at him. "It's kicking." She smiled slightly.  
  
Sark watched her with a curious fascination._  
  
Vaughn had been so excited the first time he'd felt Taryn kick. It seemed wrong not to share it with someone.  
  
_"Do you want to feel?" she asked, reaching for his hand.  
  
He let her take his hand and she guided it to the spot on her belly where he could feel the light kicks. She almost laughed at the expression that had formed on his face._  
  
It had only been a moment before her mother came from her study and into the kitchen, apparently having heard the two of them conversing. She gave them an amused look.  
  
_Sydney rose and approached her mother. "Mom, feel." She placed her mother's hand, having to wait a moment before the baby kicked again.  
  
Irina smiled approvingly._  
  
And Sydney had actually felt the most at home than she had since her arrival. Maybe it was the security of knowing she had a place to return to and feel at home that made her comfortable enough to want to start venturing out of the compound. She knew that had concerned her mother at first.  
  
_"Is there some place in particular you'd like to go? Something you need to get?"  
  
"No. I've been here what, five months. I haven't left even once. I think it's time. I'll probably only be gone a couple of hours. Send someone with me if it'll make you feel better."_  
  
She knew that was exactly what her mother probably intended to do either way. She didn't mind. She knew that going out into the open was risking being spotted by the CIA. And that in her condition, her ability to defend herself would be limited, and that her belly would make it harder to remain unnoticed. Still, she had expected her mother to find someone to send along on her outings besides Sark.  
  
_"I hope you like shopping." _  
  
While browsing for new clothes was pointless, she enjoyed looking at books and jewelry. It had made her feel normal and it was nice to consider things that didn't seem quite as serious for a change.  
  
But as she entered the last leg of her pregnancy, there were some things she couldn't ignore. Her mother went away on a business trip. She'd managed to limit them in the beginning of Sydney's stay, and then usually only for a day or two. But she went away for a week in August of that year to do all the business her organization required. She had wanted to make sure nothing would come up in the crucial time that approached. Irina wasn't unreachable but Sydney was surprised how much she missed being able to talk to her.  
  
_"I need to go out."  
  
"Sydney, it's rather late to be--"  
  
"My mother said I'm free to leave here whenever I want. So, you can come with me now, or follow me like you always do, because either way, I'm going into town."_  
  
Sark had stared at her a moment and then headed for the door. She gave him the location of a restaurant and he drove. He cast a questioning glance at her every so often and she knew that now she'd dragged him out she had to explain.  
  
_"Today is my anniversary."  
  
"Congratulations," he said stiffly.  
  
"I felt like I would explode if I just sat around today. Even though I know that's what I _should_ be doing." She shifted and rested her hands on her stomach, twisting her ring. "I couldn't avoid thinking about them today."  
  
He looked her in the eye. "You wanted to?"  
  
She stared out the window. "Yes. No. I don't know."  
  
He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. He turned off the car, and gave her a searching stare. He looked almost as though he might ask her something, but he just started to open the door.  
  
"What?" she questioned.  
  
He sat back and looked her in the eye. "Have you been happy since you left him?"  
  
She didn't have to answer him, but his stare was so intense. "I don't know. Probably not. I don't think a day's gone by that I haven't wanted to go back."  
  
He arched an eyebrow.  
  
She sighed. "But I can't do that. I can't even call, there's nothing to say."  
  
"Sydney, what did you run from?"  
  
_There_ was a question. "Me," she laughed, wryly. "Things I've done. Things I could do." She knew she made no sense but Sark didn't look at her as though he was confused. She could have continued, but she finally just pulled her door handle. "I'm hungry."  
  
They headed into the restaurant.  
  
It was her fourth anniversary._  
  
It was her last anniversary.  
  
When they had gotten back to the compound that evening, she'd taken off the ring on her finger. She'd said it, she wasn't going back ever. She couldn't torture herself day after day looking at it. She didn't have an anniversary anymore. She didn't have a marriage anymore. She rubbed the indent it had left behind on her ring finger.  
  
Her fingers were swollen.  
  
_It would only have gotten more painful to keep wearing it._  
  
Sydney knew Irina must have noticed when she returned but she just gave Sydney a hug and asked how she and the baby were.  
  
Dr. Andreas's visits became more frequent in the later months. Sydney never felt comfortable around her. The doctor only asked her health and pregnancy related questions. She seemed to save most of her comments and recommendations for Irina to pass along. The doctor did seem to get more concerned, especially when Sydney began having Braxton Hicks contractions.  
  
_"Did they come this early with your last pregnancy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did that pregnancy reach full term?"  
  
"She was born three weeks early."  
  
The doctor frowned.  
  
"She was fine," Sydney continued.  
  
"And she was probably an acceptable birth weight by that time. This baby is underweight. For it to come early would not be advisable."_  
  
Sydney hadn't asked about the baby's weight, but the doctor had given her a look that made her certain the doctor felt that could have been prevented.  
  
Irina had come in later to tell Sydney the doctor wanted her on complete bed rest. Sydney wondered why the doctor hadn't told her that herself. Maybe because Dr. Andreas knew how unappealing the thought of nearly two months in bed was going to be. But Sydney hadn't even thought of protesting when Irina had told her.  
  
She filled her time with reading mostly. Her mother visited, usually questioning how she felt. But more than once she had wanted to have a serious conversation.  
  
_"Sydney, I know you were unsure about what you wanted to do when this baby is born. But you did seem certain about what you don't want."  
  
She nodded. "I can't keep it."  
  
"You wouldn't have to raise it alone. I'd help you."  
  
"I don't think I'm ready to be a mother."  
  
"Sydney, maybe you weren't ready when Taryn was born--"  
  
"And nothing's changed since then!" Sydney interjected. "Except for the fact that I nearly killed her. I cannot have anything to do with this baby."_  
  
Her mother didn't continue to argue. Sydney realized it was more likely because Irina didn't want her getting upset rather than because she actually agreed. Maybe it worked. The baby didn't come early.  
  
Sydney had gone into labor in the early morning of the eleventh of November. Dr. Andreas and her assistants arrived and set up. The doctor said there was no reason to expect complications but still wanted to be prepared. Her mother stayed by her side, even holding her hand for the last couple of hours. Sydney had actually felt calmer than she'd expected until she heard the baby's first cry. And then her own memories had attacked her.  
  
_Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney...Sydney covered the baby's mouth with her hand, but it barely muffled the cry. _  
  
Dr. Andreas and her assistants had immediately began wiping the baby off and wrapping it in a blanket. Sydney could see its small arms and legs waving and kicking.  
  
_The small arms and legs flailed and kicked. She could feel the small baby fighting her from beneath the pillow. _  
  
Dr. Andreas had lifted the baby towards Sydney and announced it was a healthy, but small, five pounds, eight ounces.  
  
_Sydney didn't hold out her arms.  
  
Dr. Andreas looked confused. She stared at Sydney. "You don't want to hold--"  
  
Sydney just looked to Irina. "Take it."  
  
Irina hesitated.  
  
Dr. Andreas tried again. "Or just look--"  
  
Sydney kept her eyes on her mother. "Please, take it."  
  
Irina gave her a mildly disapproving look but allowed Dr. Andreas to slip the baby into her arms. Her mother rocked the baby, trying to quiet it. Irina turned to her daughter. "Sydney--"  
  
Sydney swallowed. "You promised."  
  
Irina stared at her a moment then nodded. "Do you want to choose a name?"  
  
Sydney shook her head and turned away. "Just, take it." She heard her mother exit the room and lay flat on her back again.  
  
"You don't even want to know the gender?" Dr. Andreas questioned.  
  
Sydney didn't answer.  
  
Dr. Andreas frowned at her. "My assistants will finish in here. I have to finishing examining your-the baby."  
  
Sydney blinked, trying to stop the tears as the doctor left the room. She told herself it was better this way. Better not to know anything about it. Better to remember it safe in her mother's arms. She hadn't touched it.  
  
She couldn't hurt it.  
  
Not like what she'd done to Taryn._  
  
Not like what she was doing to Taryn.  
  
Shots fired from within the safe house. Vaughn gave her a questioning glance and she returned it. Without a word, both took off running. They burst into the safe house through a side entrance, weapons drawn. They entered the room cautiously, ready to shoot at anything that moved.  
  
Immediately, Sydney's eyes were drawn to a figure on the floor in the front room. "Sark!" She hurried over and knelt beside him. He was bleeding heavily from a wound in his chest. She tore his shirt, checking the severity of his wound. She didn't have to ask what happened. Another body lay a few feet away.  
  
Vaughn kicked the weapon away from it and checked it over. "Dead," he confirmed. He moved towards Sark, looking unconcerned about the other man's injuries. "Where's Taryn?! Is she still here?"  
  
Sark managed a slight nod, between haggard breaths.  
  
Sydney looked Sark in the eye and nodded towards the dead man. "How many more of them? Do you know?"  
  
"Four," he choked out.  
  
Vaughn turned at the sound of two more people entering the safe house. His weapon dropped as he saw it was just two of the men Sydney had brought from her compound.  
  
Sydney pointed to Sark. "Get him to the truck."  
  
The men immediately moved forward and lifted Sark.  
  
Sydney looked at Vaughn. He cautiously looked into the rooms, and listened for movement, but the house seemed quiet. From the front room, they could see into the kitchen, through which was a hallway. There was a stairwell, leading upstairs. Vaughn headed towards it. "I'll go this way," he announced.  
  
Sydney nodded and took the opposite route. She headed through the kitchen and down a hallway lined with doors. She opened each one cautiously, expecting to find someone lurking behind them. A linen closet. An empty bedroom. A bathroom. The hallway curved at the end to one last bedroom door. It was cracked open. She peeked through the crack. Inside she could see a man leaned over a bed. A child was struggling as he tried to hold a plastic bag over her head.  
  
_Taryn!_  
  
Sydney kicked the door wide open, her gun aimed at his head. "Freeze!" Sydney ordered, not willing to risk firing while he still held onto Taryn.  
  
The man turned immediately, shoving Taryn to the floor beside the bed and lunging at Sydney. She fired one wayward shot before he knocked the weapon from her hands. She kicked his stomach fiercely, and he recoiled. Sydney had a second to glance see Taryn on the floor. The girl had freed herself from the bag and was gasping in fresh air.  
  
Suddenly, Sydney felt arms grab onto her from behind. Another one of Sloane's men. The first man moved forward. She braced herself against the man behind her and kicked the first man's face. She then jabbed her elbow hard into the man behind, turned and kicked his knee cap, causing him to topple.  
  
The first man recovered and grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him. She grabbed at a lamp with her free hand and brought it back, forcefully slamming into his face. He released her and fell. She managed a kick to render him unconscious before the remaining man came forward again. She narrowly avoided a punch directed at her face. He pulled a bookcase from against the wall, shoving it at her and letting the books fall to the floor. He tore out a shelf and used it to deliver a blow to her stomach. She coughed, but grabbed onto it, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. He moved backwards, keeping his tight grip as he nearly backed out of the room. She shoved the shelf forward, pushing him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He released the board. She grabbed it and brought it down on his head. He collapsed to the floor with a satisfying thud.  
  
Sydney swallowed, taking a moment to catch her breath. She turned to the corner where she'd left Taryn and her eyes widened. The child's eyes were full of tears, but in her arms was the gun Sydney had lost at the beginning of the fight. And she was pointing it directly at Sydney.  
  
Sydney swallowed, realizing how terrified Taryn must be. She moved towards the girl cautiously, not wanting to startle her. "Taryn, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Just put the gun down."  
  
Taryn's chin quivered, but she kept a tight grip on the gun.  
  
Sydney held up her arms passively. "I know you've been through a lot scary things you don't understand. But you're okay now. You don't need the gun." She moved forward slowly, knowing once she got close enough she could snatch the weapon from the child's arms. "Taryn, my name is Sydney."  
  
Taryn sniffled, but showed no recognition of her or the name.  
  
Another foot closer and she could grab it. "Taryn, you are safe now, I promise." Sydney held out her hand. "Just--"  
  
Taryn squeezed the trigger.  
  
A single gunshot sounded.


	8. Prayer of Orphans

A/N: I thought it only fair to warn you all that this will be last update for several months while I do some story plotting on this, write more parts, and work on my other fics which I neglected all summer.   
DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Hope for those lost and wandering... _  
_8th_ in the _Cry of Orphans_ series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.  
  
_For Paty. For Liv. For Prl. For Chim. For Bek. And for Chrissy. Without whom, I would never finish anything. Ever.  
_

**PRAYER OF ORPHANS**  
By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2004  
  
The bullet rocketed through the air, exploded into her flesh and burned a path through her.  
  
But it was the terrified, brown eyes of the girl who showed no recognition of her that had made her want to cry. She had to take a step back to absorb the force and remain upright. She tasted blood in her mouth, and realized her teeth had nearly bit through her tongue as she'd released only a small scream.  
  
She launched herself forward, snatching the gun from the girl's trembling hands, knowing she'd better disarm the child before she did anything else. The ten-year-old released the gun with no resistance. She was too frightened to fight back.  
  
Sydney swallowed, putting the gun in the holster at her side. She never took her eyes off the girl whose eyes were wide and fixed on the blood gushing from the hole in Sydney's shoulder. Taryn's mouth was held open in a silent scream.  
  
Sydney cautiously moved forward again.  
  
Taryn flattened herself to the wall, fisting her hands and breathing erratically. Her brown hair was a tangled mess and was sticking to her sweaty forehead. The simple jeans and t-shirt she wore belonged in another place in time; somewhere outside the nightmare this had to be for her.  
  
Sydney hesitated, blinking back tears that would have been acceptable if they had been caused by the pain emanating from her wound.  
  
The child's terror was so visible. A terror that Sydney had once thought she could prevent her from ever feeling again. She'd failed.  
  
_Again. _  
  
She had to calm her. She had to make her feel safe.  
  
"Taryn, I'm..." The words lodged in her throat. The thought disappeared into the air. Because who was she? Certainly not her mother. And she was hardly Vaughn's wife anymore.  
  
_"Taryn, my name is Sydney." _  
  
The name had been so completely meaningless to Taryn. She wanted to laugh at how fitting that was. Her name _was_ meaningless.  
  
_Sydney Bristow was an agent for the CIA.  
  
Sydney Bristow was a loving wife to Michael Vaughn.  
  
Sydney Bristow would have been a good mother.  
  
Sydney Bristow didn't exist anymore. _  
  
Sydney tried to give Taryn a comforting smile. "I know your father, Taryn. I came here to help him find you." She tried to catch the girl's eyes. "Come on, I know you must want to get out of here."  
  
Taryn swallowed, again staring at the Sydney's wound.  
  
Sydney glanced at it, trying not to wince when she moved her injured arm. "It's okay. I'm okay." She backed up to the bed, tearing a sheet. She used one piece to sop up excess blood, and then placed another against the wound, forming a makeshift bandage. "Will you come with me now?"  
  
Taryn nodded ever so slightly.  
  
Sydney moved out the door carefully. The child watched her and did her best to match Sydney's cautious movements, following at a safe distance.  
  
But the unmistakable sound of gunfire above their heads urged the child forward. Sydney was more unnerved by Taryn's hand gripping onto her uninjured arm than the gunshots upstairs. Sydney moved more quickly into the kitchen. The other two guards she'd brought from the compound appeared in the front room. They urged her towards door, their eyes widening at her shoulder.  
  
"You've been shot!"  
  
Sydney felt Taryn's grip on her tighten. "Just get up there!" she ordered, harshly.  
  
_Vaughn was still up there. _  
  
But she couldn't say that out loud. She moved out the door. She had to get Taryn to the truck where she'd be safe. She moved through the foliage at a quick pace, but Taryn kept up and kept a hold on her hand. They reached the truck in a matter of minutes and climbed inside the back.  
  
One guard was in the driver's seat. Another was leaned over Sark, who seemed barely unconscious as he lay on the bed of the truck.  
  
"How is he, Luís?" Sydney questioned.  
  
"He needs a doctor." Luís raised an eye towards her and frowned. "And it looks like you do too. What happened?"  
  
Taryn stepped behind her, her fingers were digging into Sydney's arm tight enough to bruise.  
  
"It doesn't matter what happened."  
  
Luís tilted his head, trying to see the child behind her. "Is _she_ okay?"  
  
Sydney brought her hand out from behind her, forcing Taryn in front of her. She gestured for the girl to sit. "Are you okay?"  
  
Taryn glanced at the two unfamiliar men but settled her gaze on the motionless Sark. She started to tremble. Sydney stepped to block her view. "Look at me." She knelt down and looked the girl in the eye. "Are you okay?"  
  
Taryn stared right back into her eyes and nodded.  
  
Sydney released a sigh, and her eyes narrowed on a bandage peeking out from beneath the right sleeve of Taryn's shirt. Sydney pulled back the shirt and looked at the bandage. She gave Taryn a questioning look. "When did..." She pulled back the bandage, peeking at the child's wound. It wasn't bleeding. It had been well taken care of. Taryn didn't even act as though it hurt when Sydney gently pressed the bandage back into place.  
  
Sydney smiled for her again.  
  
She couldn't hold the smile when she saw the last two guards tearing through the trees. They neared the truck and Sydney was certain of who she didn't see. They climbed into the back. "Where's--"  
  
"He's not there!"  
  
Sydney straightened, her face darkening. "What do you mean he's not there?"  
  
Taryn's eyes ping-ponged between watching Sydney and the men, trying to make sense of their conversation.  
  
"There was only this."  
  
Sydney snatched the paper from the guard's hand and read it over. She sunk onto the bench beside Taryn. She looked towards the driver. "Go."  
  
Luís raised an eyebrow. "We're leaving?"  
  
Sydney looked at Sark. "You said he needs a doctor?"  
  
Luís nodded.  
  
"Then, we need to go." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "There's nothing for us here." The vibrations of the truck as it began to move caused her to wince.  
  
Luís started towards her with gauze and disinfectant. She shook her head at him. Luís knew better than to try and push it. "I'm okay." She stopped and looked at Taryn, who was staring out the back of the truck, looking lost and so alone. "I'm okay," she repeated.  
  
Because now she _had_ to be.  
  
No matter how hard it was.  
  
_"How is she?" her mother's voice.  
  
"I don't know," the doctor's assistant responded. _  
  
She still didn't know how her mother hand returned to the room so fast. What she'd done with the baby in that short amount of time. At the time, she'd only cared that her mother had come back to the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. She hadn't seen her face, but she'd heard her voice clearly.  
  
_"It's all right if you cry." _  
  
She had rolled back over and let her mother take her in her arms. She had screamed before she cried. She couldn't even control her sobs and could hardly catch her breath. She had finished coughing instead of crying and had soaked her own face and as well as her mother's shirt. Shakily, she had released Irina and curled up. She let her mother think she'd fallen asleep. But she'd laid there affirming things in her mind.  
  
_She wasn't going to go back to Vaughn.  
  
She'd given up her baby and she'd cried about it.  
  
This was her home now. _  
  
And now she had to be okay.  
  
She would make sure she didn't get up if she hadn't slept eight hours and didn't keep sleeping if she had. She would eat three meals a day without them being brought to her room. She set up a daily exercise routine to start working off the fat from the pregnancy.  
  
_Maybe the sooner she lost the weight, the sooner she wouldn't feel so empty. _  
  
She hadn't asked her mother what she'd done with the baby. Wherever it was, she knew it was surely being well taken care of. She told herself she didn't need to know exactly where. That she shouldn't dwell on it. That it wasn't really ever hers to worry about. That she didn't know anything about it. Except that wasn't exactly true.  
  
_Somewhere, there was a wrinkly, pink baby with hair so dark it was almost black. _  
  
It had only been a glimpse. She'd turned away, but the back of the infant's head was imprinted in her memory. And she couldn't keep it from coming to mind.  
  
What if she had held it and felt nothing? Or worse, what if she'd held it and felt something? Even if only for a moment.  
  
_"Sydney, if you need to talk-"  
  
"No, I'm fine." _  
  
Maybe she had _needed_ to talk but she hadn't wanted to. She didn't want to keep dumping her emotions on her mother. It wouldn't have been normal to spend every other day crying on her mother's shoulder the way she had wanted to. And she truly didn't want to be that much of a bother.  
  
_"You've given me nearly constant attention since I arrived here, but there must be other things you need to do." _  
  
Irina's face had been expressionless, not revealing whether or not it had hurt that Sydney was pushing her away. Whether she'd found it suspicious, or somewhat relieving Irina had started leaving the compound regularly on trips. Sydney was certain her mother would have made herself available if she had expressed an interest in talking. But Sydney didn't have any interest in talking. She wouldn't have known what to talk about.  
  
It was much easier to just choreograph her moves against a punching bag in the training gym. Kicking and punching it with force she hadn't been able to exert while she was pregnant. Letting her heart pounding drown out the sound of her thoughts. Bruising her knuckles even though she wrapped them.  
  
_"Has the punching bag learned its lesson yet?" _  
  
She had been able to get her mother to resume the business of her organization. But Sark still seemed to be around as much as ever.  
  
_"They're exercises, Sark. I'm just trying to get back into shape."  
  
"Into shape or into fighting form?" he questioned, circling the punching bag.  
  
She aimed a kick at the bag, designed to swing it in his direction. "Is there someone I need to fight?"  
  
"I just see far more anger than I do exercise." He caught the bag and held it in a place.  
  
She directed a series of punches, alternating arms, before pausing to speak. "I don't think there's anyone for me to be angry at."  
  
Sark raised an eyebrow. He released the bag and headed out of the gym. _  
  
With further exploration of the compound, Sydney located a pool in the sublevels of one of the buildings. She hadn't thought to pack a swimsuit and so she had gone into town to buy several. She felt clumsy in the water at first, but she kept at it, adding diving practice. There was something so calming about the sound of the water lapping at the sides of the pool. It was relaxing for her to swim underwater, holding her breath for as long as she could.  
  
She'd dive in and sit under twelve feet of water until she thought her lungs would burst and then rocket towards the surface, reaching it in what seemed like just in time. Except one time. One time she didn't go to the surface. She just opened her mouth and took a breath while still under. The clear blue water of the pool had disappeared into blackness. It was so peaceful.  
  
She had awakened at the pool side, sputtering into Sark's mouth. He quickly turned her to her side as she gurgled out more water. She had stared back at him. He was fully clothed in slacks and a sweater but completely soaked. He gazed at her with searching eyes.  
  
_"What happened?" he demanded.  
  
"I bumped my head on the side of the pool," she lied, as she sat up.  
  
"I don't see a bump," he responded, icily.  
  
She swallowed, her throat raw from the water. "What were you doing in here anyway?" _  
  
He hadn't come out with an immediate answer. She had pushed him away from her and grabbed her towel as if she was feeling shy in the black bikini.  
  
A guard was posted directly inside the pool room after that.  
  
_"For security." _  
  
Sark had told her.  
  
She hadn't said a thing about it. In some ways, she was glad to have the guard there. It reminded her to behave. After all, it wasn't _normal_ to open one's mouth under twelve feet of water.  
  
She tried to find things to do around the compound to feel useful. Jessa did the cleaning so there was little she could do to add to that. So, she volunteered to make dinner a couple nights a week. She had missed cooking. She had made dinner for Vaughn so regularly. She knew it was so stereotypical that she had done the cooking, but as she had been trying to adjust into the routine of their marriage, she'd found it was something she really enjoyed doing. More so than she had when it was just herself to cook for. She took a small amount of pride in the meals she prepared for her mother and Sark those evenings. And it was easier to allow them to scrutinize her cooking rather than her.  
  
It was after the incident in the pool, that she had started taking a second glass of wine after dinner to sip through a bath. She had missed being able to unwind with that familiar routine when she was pregnant. She would usually soak in the bubbles with her eyes closed and try to let her mind drift. And she would actually allow herself to think about the things she tried to keep out of her mind all day.  
  
_Were they still searching for her? _  
  
She could have asked Irina, but she knew it was a pointless question. Neither answer was going to satisfy her.  
  
_Were they worried about her? _  
  
She didn't want Vaughn or her father to worry. It was the reason she'd left the messages. To make sure they knew she'd left of her own accord. Maybe they hadn't wanted to accept that at first, but at least there was lack of any evidence to contrary.  
  
_Were they all right? _  
  
She didn't have any reassuring answers she could give herself about that one. She had to just hope so. She was always left thinking maybe she could call. She could hear his voice. As long as they'd known each other, she was certain she could probably tell by his tone how he was doing.  
  
_But what if he wasn't all right? _  
  
She wouldn't have any reassuring words. She couldn't go back. She would just torture herself with the information. And...  
  
_What if he was? _  
  
It was usually on that question that she'd down the last of her glass of wine, and sink deeper into the bubbles of her bath. It wasn't like it had been at first. There were no tears. Just an ache in her chest. Constant. Throbbing. She would just hug her legs and bury her face in her knees until it passed.  
  
It was strange how little things could call to mind unwanted thoughts so easily. She was brushing her hair one morning and it occurred to how much longer it had grown since she'd left Vaughn.  
  
_Taryn's hair had finally been starting to really grow when she left. Straight and fine, golden brown hair. How much longer it must be now.  
  
Sydney glanced at her now outdated photograph. Nine months old. Except now, she was twenty months old.  
  
Sydney turned away from the picture back towards the mirror.  
  
Taryn must be walking now. Saying so many words. Turning pages of books by herself. Running. Jumping. Changed so much. Changing so much. _  
  
The hair brush had dropped from her hand at her next thought.  
  
_Taryn probably didn't remember her any more. _  
  
Sydney stared at herself in the mirror and blinked slowly.  
  
_If Taryn forgot her, maybe she would forget about the pillow too. _  
  
She had straightened and resumed brushing her hair.  
  
She realized looking back that she should have known that resolving to be okay, wouldn't instantly make her okay. But compartmentalizing had always worked so well when she was a spy. It had kept her sane. It had kept her sitting across a table from Sloane at SD-6 when all she'd wanted to do was rip his heart out. It had made it okay when she was exhausted from risking her life for the CIA and their only thought was the next mission they could send her on.  
  
And yet perhaps that had been her downfall. Had she somehow compartmentalized away her ability to love her baby? By doing what it took to be good spy, had she forfeited any chance she might have had of being a good a mother?  
  
She realized if that were true, she had so much more to add to the list of things being a spy had cost her.  
  
She had tossed a glare at her reflection in the mirror.  
  
Her body returned to its normal weight but it felt like an illusion. Her reflection seemed to be a rather inaccurate portrayal of her. She kept up a vigorous exercise routine anyway, trying to cope with the restless feeling that was starting to steal sleep from her again.   
  
Sometimes she awoke to a cry. So real and loud that for a second before opening her eyes, she'd be certain there was a baby right beside her in the bed. Not just any baby. The cry wasn't unfamiliar. It was Taryn's cry. The terrified, screaming cry. And she realized it wasn't the cry that would unsettle her when she first awoke. It was the absence of it. The silence that would send her heart pounding out of control and make her hands tremble.  
  
Her eyes would sting. She would fist her hands and hug her pillow to her chest, rocking every so slightly. She couldn't tell anyone. Phantom cries and silence. She _was_ going insane. Sometimes, she climbed out bed as quietly as possible, went downstairs and walked around. It was purely by accident that one night she saw Jessa locking a storage room by inputting a security code. Sydney blamed her spy training for instantly committing it to memory.  
  
When Sydney awoke from sleep in the middle of the night two days later, she went to the kitchen. She felt madly unsettled and the house was too quiet. She thought she would try a glass of red wine and a bath but the second the glass in her hand was full, she just drank it down. She had searched for a refill, but there wasn't another cooled, opened bottle. She settled for filling her glass with water. She started to head back to her bedroom, but the storage room was what she had come to first. She hadn't even hesitated. She'd entered the security code and pushed open the door.  
  
It had been lined with shelves that held extra sheets and towels. There were cleaning products on the floor. A mop, bucket and a broom were against one wall.  
  
_Her heart pounded fast and uneven. Her hands stretched in front of her, uncapping a bottle of some disinfectant. She brought it close enough to her mouth that the lemon scent went up her nose, before another shelf took her notice. She set aside the disinfectant and noted the pill bottles.  
  
Her head pounded in the erratic rhythm of her heart.  
  
She grabbed the first bottle with a label that could help a headache. She popped it open, tilted the bottle to her mouth and drank the smooth, flat round pills without even counting. She took a swallow of her water to work them down and pocketed the empty pill bottle.  
  
She had to get back to bed. She reached for another pill bottle, exited the storage room and was halfway up the stairs before she felt her stomach tighten. She stumbled into her room, closing the door hard.  
  
Sleep. She fell back on her bed, spilling half her water. She closed her eyes, but immediately there was the cry. Loud. Terrified. Screaming. _  
  
Normally with her eyes closed, she had been able to picture Taryn's face, but that wasn't who she had pictured that time.  
  
_Dark hair, almost black. Brand new, pink arms and legs flailing. _  
  
It was Taryn's cry and yet it wasn't Taryn she'd seen in her head.  
  
_Her eyes popped open, she sat up. She managed to grab the picture of Vaughn and Taryn from atop the dresser and place it on the bed beside her. Despite her tumbling stomach, she took the full bottle of pills and started shoving them two at a time into her mouth and forcing them down with water. The last two, without water. The glass fell from her hand and crashed onto the floor. She curled into a ball on the bed, clutching her hands to her stomach. _  
  
And finally, she had begun to feel sleepy.  
  
She didn't recall much of anything that happened right after that. There were faces, with their mouths open, speaking to her. She didn't recall being able to understand anything they said. She was told Dr. Andreas came and had administered treatment but she didn't recall that at all.  
  
Her next clear, conscious memory was a stinging slap to her left cheek and opening her eyes to find her mother inches from her face, staring at her with furious eyes. There had been none of the tender, concerned, health inquiries she had awakened to the last time. Her mother's expression was severe and she spoke harshly.  
  
_"You want to kill yourself, then you can leave now. Because you are_ not_ dying here." _  
  
Sydney had lowered her eyes and placed a hand to her stinging cheek. She had been unsure what, if any, response to that would have been appropriate. She didn't want to leave. She had sat there probably looking as stunned as she felt.  
  
_"I want you to courier a package to Rome on Monday."  
  
Sydney gave her mother a questioning look. "You want me to do work for you?"  
  
"You can't be left alone, and sitting around here gives you too much time to plot your own demise." _  
  
She remembered staring at her mother, expecting her to burst into laughter for some reason. But Irina's expression had been cold and serious.  
  
_Sydney started to shake her head.  
  
"Sydney, I'm not asking you to do anything against the American government. It's simply a delivery."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"It's not important. Here is what is important: I will send three guards with you. If you attempt to harm them, evade them or they report you doing anything reckless to jeopardize yourself or your assignment, then when you return here, there are cells downstairs."  
  
Sydney narrowed her eyes, not believing her mother for a moment.  
  
Irina returned her stare with the same narrowed eyes. "If I have to treat you like a prisoner to keep you alive, I will." _  
  
The pain in Irina's voice had kept Sydney from saying anything. Her mother's demands weren't about controlling her; they were about trying to take care of her. She didn't want to fight that when she knew how worried Irina must be and she didn't doubt her mother's ability to follow through on her threats. Sydney didn't want to leave and she didn't want her life to become any more restricted. Thoughts of protest left her mind. She could surely do a simple delivery.  
  
She was surprised at how little of Sark she saw that weekend. But he entered her room on Sunday evening.  
  
_"Out," he said to Jessa, and waited as the girl quickly left the room.  
  
Sydney sat up straighter, giving him a questioning look.  
  
He lifted a picture off her dresser. "I found you, with this picture in your hand." _  
  
She had only vaguely remembered picking it up, shortly before she'd started shoving down the pills. She had nodded, wondering what he must think of her.  
  
_"I can't help but think of them, worry about them, wonder about them."  
  
Sark set down the picture, and moved towards the bed dropping a photo packet in her lap. "If you wanted to know how they were, all you had to do was ask."  
  
He left the room before she had the chance to open the packet. There were three pictures, obviously recent, inside. The first was of Vaughn at a park, his hand outstretched to hold onto Taryn's hand. It was obvious neither had been aware of the camera. Vaughn was wearing sunglasses, making his expression hard to read but he wasn't smiling. It was surprising how much taller Taryn had gotten.  
  
The second picture was of the same place, obviously a bit later in the day. Vaughn was sitting on a park bench no longer wearing the sunglasses, hugging Taryn protectively to him. Taryn was facing the camera. Sydney could see how much hair Taryn had grown. The toddler was staring seriously at some nearby ducks. Vaughn was staring seriously at nothing, his forehead crinkled.  
  
Sydney swallowed and flipped to the last picture. Vaughn was knelt down tying the toddler's shoe. He had a smile that didn't quite reach is eyes. Taryn was grinning at him, one of her small hands resting on his shoulder to maintain her balance.  
  
She took deep breaths, trying not to cry. _  
  
She had inquired about Sark as soon as Jessa had come back into the room, but was informed that he'd left the compound for the day. So, she had asked for a new picture frame. She placed the picture of Vaughn tying Taryn's shoe on the nightstand beside her bed.  
  
That Monday, she got up and got dressed early. She met with her mother in her study around 9am and was introduced to the three guards, two male and one female, that would accompany her. They were dismissed and then, she was handed a silver case.  
  
_"You'll give that to Roberto Leone at this address. He will have something to exchange with you for it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"When you see it, you'll know."'  
  
Sydney gripped the case. "You could send anyone to do this."  
  
Her mother nearly looked amused for a moment. "Yes. But I'm sending you."  
  
Sydney sighed. "See you when I get back." She turned to leave.  
  
"Sydney." She had turned back around and met her mother's serious eyes. "Be safe." _  
  
Irina had said the words with such sincerity. Sydney had surprised herself with her response.  
  
_"I will." _  
  
And she had been. She was mostly quiet during the drive to her mother's awaiting jet. The three guards took their job very seriously, casting glances at her every so often as if they could read her mind and would be able to tell if she even _thought_ about hurting herself. She tried to seem calm. But it had been a long time since she had been on a mission of any kind. She welcomed the familiar adrenaline rush, to be restless with a purpose.  
  
She opened the case during the plane ride and flipped through the papers. They appeared to be schematics of some kind. She didn't look at them long as her guards seemed to watch her even more closely while she did. She found she wished she had more to review. A file of mission parameters and details the way the CIA or even SD-6 outlined for her. But she realized, she wasn't supposed to worry about those things. She was supposed to make an exchange like a junior operative. When the plane landed, she noted her guards preparing themselves with weapons in holsters. She felt like she should be arming herself as well. Her look must have given her away.  
  
_Sergei shook his head at her. "My orders were clear. You are not to have possession of any weapons. We're prepared to defend you, if necessary." _  
  
Because of course, she couldn't be trusted to carry around a gun. At that moment, even she wasn't sure what she might have done with one.  
  
They had gotten into the awaiting vehicle and been driven to the address of what had looked like a warehouse. Besides a few boxes, there was only a table in the room.  
  
A gentleman had been awaiting them with one guard of his own.  
  
_"Roberto Leone?" Sydney confirmed.  
  
"Yes. You must be Derevko's representative."  
  
Sydney nodded. "I am."  
  
"You have my documents."  
  
Sydney placed the silver case on the table, but didn't release it, awaiting whatever it was he was to give her.  
  
Roberto stared at her, silently a moment, not moving. He looked at her as though she was transparent and his eyes gleamed. Sydney momentarily felt glad she had three guards behind her. Finally, he grinned and had his man bring forward a wooden box. They exchanged items simultaneously. Immediately, Sydney took note of the eye of Rambaldi embossed on the front of the box.  
  
"Thank you." _  
  
They had both turned and exited the warehouse from opposite directions. Again, Sydney had found herself wanting details. Who the man was. Why he'd wanted the documents. She looked at the box. And what was in this box that her mother had been willing to trade for it.  
  
She had hung onto the box the entire ride back to the compound and delivered it directly to her mother. Irina's eyes lit up immediately when Sydney handed it over. But she set the box aside and gave Sydney her full attention.  
  
_"Everything went well?"  
  
Sydney nodded. "It was fine. Simple."  
  
"Good. I hope you feel the same about your next assignment."  
  
Sydney straightened. "My next assignment?"  
  
"It will be at the end of the week." _  
  
Irina had watched her expectantly, ready for a protest. But Sydney had none. It was another opportunity to get out of the compound and do something with all her restless energy. She had spent an hour or two each of the days before the end of the week in the gym training. She had gone on at least two courier assignments a week for almost two months. She wasn't given details. She was simply to go and make exchanges. She never introduced herself by name. She allowed herself to be an enigmatic representative of Irina Derevko.  
  
She realized now that the lack of information she was given had allowed her to relax and enjoy the assignments as if she had one task on a trip that was otherwise sightseeing. But being unknown was the most freeing thing. She could assume whatever demeanor she thought would do the job. She had found herself staying as serious as possible during the meetings, harsh even at times. It had made her feel the most comfortable and covered the lack of knowledge she had about what she was doing. She knew everything she did was reported back to her mother by her guards and figured if anything she did was unacceptable, she'd hear of it. But when no reprimands came, she felt free to keep the darkly serious persona. It gave her a reputation that made fewer problems arise during her meetings and around her mother's personnel when she couriered items between facilities.  
  
She saw little of Sark during that time. It was only after those two months that he actually returned to stay at the house for longer than a few hours. She sought him out, pictures in hand, in the late afternoon the second day he was back.  
  
_She held up the photographs in her hand. "How did you-"  
  
He looked at her expectantly.  
  
"When did you-"  
  
He kept his eyes on her in an intense stare.  
  
She sighed. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
She stared at the framed picture on the top of the pile in her hands. Vaughn tying Taryn's shoe. "Why?"  
  
"Because you needed to know."  
  
"But I never said. How did you know?"  
  
He bit his lip a moment. "Because I knew if I were you, I'd want to know."  
  
She nodded.  
  
He looked away from her a moment. "There's something else you should know."  
  
She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"The CIA, they've stopped looking for you." Sark's eyes momentarily dropped to the picture in her hand. "He's...stopped looking for you."  
  
She swallowed and started to turn away, not sure what kind of reaction he was expecting or how she should feel about that information. She started to head back towards the house.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
She spun back to look at him. "What?!" _  
  
The word came out full of far more emotion than she would have liked it to and she had quickly turned her back to him again.  
  
_"I only meant, they are carrying on without you. It's not a crime if you do the same." _  
  
She hadn't answered him. She had just gone to her room. She wanted to be alone.  
  
She had stared at the pictures on her dresser and then the ones in her hand. She wanted them to get on with their lives. She wanted him to be happy without her.  
  
_And yet she didn't _want _him to be happy without her. _  
  
She stayed in her room the rest of the evening, missing dinner, and most of the next day. But she knew it'd worry her mother too much if she missed dinner two evenings in a row. Especially since she was to have a short meeting with Irina to prep her for her next assignment. She had settled into a chair on the opposite side of the desk in her mother's study. Irina had seemed engrossed in some papers at first, but she'd looked serious when she looked up.  
  
_"So, what am I delivering tomorrow?"  
  
Irina stared at her a moment. "Sydney, do you think you're up to doing more than being a courier?"  
  
"What did you have in mind?"  
  
"Surveillance."  
  
She nodded. "When?"  
  
"Sydney, this is your choice. If you don't feel up to it."  
  
"No, it's fine, Mom. When?"  
  
"Next week."  
  
"You don't have anything sooner?" _  
  
Her mother had raised an eyebrow, but sent her to Moscow only two days later. More responsibility had been exactly what Sydney felt she needed to keep her mind busy. Her three guards were still her constant entourage and her protectors. And courier missions were still peppered in. But she liked the surveillance. She liked using her own mind to plot the best way to get the photographs and video or where to plant bugs. It was much closer to the spying she remembered. She had two months of at least two missions a week but it was one of her random courier assignments that had changed everything again.  
  
_Sydney looked over the vials of liquid. "That concludes our business."  
  
Erik Atwood closed the briefcase of cash. "Except one thing. This is going to be the last shipment."  
  
Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "You said you could produce at least two more."  
  
The man shifted. "I miscalculated."  
  
"I see," Sydney responded.  
  
He stepped away from the desk and turned to leave.  
  
As he passed, Sydney kicked her leg around and connected with the Atwood's knee, sending him toppling to the ground. He quickly rolled over, but Sergei and Tasha had trained weapons on him, daring him to move.  
  
"Now, the truth," Sydney ordered.  
  
Atwood stared defiantly at her.  
  
She waved a hand and Sergei cocked his weapon, placing it to the man's neck.  
  
The man swallowed. "My last two shipments were bought out."  
  
"By whom?"  
  
He hesitated, not moving from his position on his hands and knees.  
  
Sergei's rifle prodded the man's neck.  
  
"By whom?" Sydney demanded.  
  
Atwood sighed. "I'm told it was for a man named Sloane. Arvin Sloane."  
  
Sydney stared, then directed an angry kick at the man's head, sending him unconscious.   
  
Sergei looked up at her in surprise.  
  
"Let's go," she said, coldly. "Now." _  
  
She had arrived back at the compound and briskly walked into her mother's study without knocking. Her mother had apparently been in a meeting with the commander of the guard, but Sydney hadn't cared.  
  
_Sydney deposited the container of vials on her mother's desk. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Irina gave her a questioning look.  
  
"About Sloane."  
  
Irina dismissed the commander. "We'll finish this later, Max."  
  
Sydney waited as the man exited the study, closing the door behind him. "Why-"  
  
"Sit down, Sydney."  
  
Sydney sighed and sat down in the chair. "When did Sloane re-emerge?"  
  
Irina sighed. "A month after you first came to stay here."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"If you recall, Sydney, you were pregnant and recovering from an attempt to commit suicide. Your focus needed to be on your health, not Sloane."  
  
Sydney conceded to that. "But what has he been doing? Does the CIA know-"  
  
"They know. They suspected him for awhile as being responsible for your disappearance."  
  
Sydney raised an eyebrow in surprise. "So they've known all this time?"  
  
Irina nodded.  
  
"Are they any closer to catching him or stopping him?"  
  
"They've made some minor hits to the organization he's established, but no, nothing damaging."  
  
Sydney nodded and made a decision. "I want to know everything he's been up to. All the information you have about his operations and facilities for the last year."  
  
"Sydney, are you really ready to-"  
  
"Mom, maybe I needed to be babied when I first got here, but that is not what I need right now." Sydney stood up. "The man who lied to me and manipulated me for seven years of my life is running around like he's untouchable. I won't sit back and do nothing about it."  
  
"The information you requested will be brought to you in the library within the hour."  
  
"Thank you." _  
  
Sydney had gone and eaten half a late lunch and met the guard in the library forty-five minutes later. He had brought three discs for her and she sat down with her laptop and perused them. She shouldn't have been surprised by what she read, shouldn't have been surprised that Sloane was still the devil she'd thought him to be. Although, she was certain Emily's death had affected him and not for the better.  
  
The reports Irina had acquired painted a rather clear picture. Sloane was still on his obsessive hunt for Rambaldi and was doing anything he thought would bring him the items he wanted. He was using whatever things of value he could get his hands on by whatever means necessary and trading those for leads on Rambaldi artifacts. Her stomach was in angry knots by the time she finished the last disc.  
  
As if on cue, Jessa had entered the library.  
  
_"Your mother thought you might like some tea." _  
  
Sydney had accepted it. It was peppermint and helped her stomach. She had left the library found her mother in the sitting room with a cup of tea of her own. Sydney sat down across from her.  
  
_"You know what I want."  
  
Irina stirred her tea. "Yes. You're not ready."  
  
"Agreed. I can't put a bullet in his heart as long as you still won't let me carry any weapons."  
  
"You're not ready."  
  
"I may be out of practice but I still remember how to aim and fire. "  
  
Her mother abruptly set aside her tea. "I'm not talking about the handling of a weapon. I'm talking about the emotional repercussions of taking lives."  
  
"The emotional repercussions of taking Sloane's life I can handle," Sydney answered dryly.  
  
"You'll have to locate him first. That's going to take time. You must have noted that even with all the reports assembled, there are no leads on his current location."  
  
"I can wait. But I'm not going on anymore blind missions with three guards as babysitters. I want full briefs on all my assignments. I want to know what I'm delivering and why. Who I'm surveying and why. I want to know if there's any chance that the people I'm dealing with might be able to give me information on Sloane. And anything you learn about his movements, I want to know." She realized how demanding she sounded as she finished and added, "Please."  
  
"Would you also like your own office?" Her mother looked amused. "The things you've requested, you can have but with these exceptions. Your guard detail remains and for now, you will continue without any weapons--"  
  
"Mom, I--"  
  
Irina scolded Sydney with her eyes for interrupting. "In the field."  
  
Sydney raised an eyebrow.  
  
"But I know you'll want to build back up your skills, so I will allow you to do target practice here. Supervised... for now," she added before Sydney could object. _  
  
Sydney had agreed to her mother's terms and added target practice into her weekly routine for the days she was home.  
  
She also got regular briefs on her missions, and began truly learning the players in her mother's world. She was somewhat discouraged that the reports on Sloane were few and far between and missions related to him were even scarcer. She tried to think positively that it was time to build up her skills. But sometimes she arranged a target practice session simply because it felt good to take her frustration out on something.  
  
_Sydney filled the target sheet of bullet holes peppering in and around the target's heart and up to its head.  
  
"Aren't we eager to kill some 'bad guys'?"  
  
Sydney let out a sigh and turned her aim from the target to him. "Yes, actually. I am." She pulled the trigger.  
  
He smirked at the anti-climactic click of the empty barrel, then looked at her used target sheets. "Not bad," he said.  
  
Sydney turned to reload. "But not very good either." She looked up at him. "When did you get here?"  
  
"An hour ago. But I was in a meeting with your mother until now."  
  
Sydney nodded and changed her target sheet. "And how did things go in Marseilles?"  
  
"As expected."  
  
"So did Leroux give you any information on Sloane's weapon's suppliers?"  
  
"He apparently had none to give." _  
  
Sydney had frowned, hating the way she had to settle for second-hand information about the most key of missions. After another month and half, her mother finally allowed Sydney to only have one guard accompany her on her more covert assignments. And that was exactly what she'd been waiting for. She waited one more month before approaching her mother with a new request.  
  
_"Sark's going to Madrid in two days. I want to go with him."  
  
Irina looked at her. "Does Sark know this?"  
  
"If you agree to it, it won't matter to him."  
  
"Sydney, it's a covert assignment, requires only a two person team —"  
  
"Which you know I can do. Sending along Sergei or Lucas is just a formality now. Letting me go on an assignment with just Sark would be no different."  
  
"All right, Sydney, you may accompany him. But he'll be on point, and I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks." _  
  
The trip to Madrid hadn't turned out anything like expected. She was to be a distraction while Sark slipped into the well guarded home of an antiques dealer and intercepted a Rambaldi artifact before it could be transported to Sloane. It was supposed to have been a quick in and out.  
  
It had begun normally. She faked her car breaking down in the middle of the night and talked to the guard at the gate, hoping to get some assistance in fixing it, while Sark had made his way inside the house to get the artifact. It wasn't Sark's fault that he'd tripped an alarm. It hadn't been in the intel. The guard was smart enough that as soon as he heard the alarm he grabbed onto her. And for the first time in months, she had a real need to use all the training she'd been doing.  
  
_Her elbow swung into the man's jaw and he stumbled back a couple steps. He raised his weapon at her but she delivered a kick that knocked the gun several yards away as well as injured his hand. He backed up again then ran at her, she deflected the kick he aimed at her stomach but his fist still collided with her face. It was her turn to back up. When he ran at her again, she delivered a kick to his knee and sent him flat on his back. He looked dazed.  
  
She knelt over him and immediately his hands grabbed her arms. She wrestled her hands away, grabbed him by his shoulders and pounded his head into the ground. Once. His hands dropped limply to his side. Twice. His eyes rolled back. Thrice. He gasped, his eyes bulging open. Quadrice. She felt his skull crush against the pavement.  
  
She stumbled back away from him, catching her breath.  
  
Footsteps approached. She grabbed the discarded gun and aimed it in the direction of the whomever was coming.  
  
"I surrender," Sark answered, dryly. He held a wrapped artifact under one arm.  
  
He looked at the scene as she lowered the gun. He stepped towards her, looking down at the dead guard. "Are you all right?"  
  
Her stomach was churning. "Let's just get out of here." _  
  
It wasn't the first time she'd killed someone. But it was the first time she knew she hadn't had to.  
  
She knew she was silent the entire ride back to the compound. She had held her hands tightly in her lap, replaying the scene in her mind. She let Sark take the lead during the mission debrief in Irina's study that evening. They were both dismissed but Irina came to her room that night with a familiar wooden box in hand.  
  
_Sydney opened it to find her gun, still loaded with the bullets she had put it in that horrible day over a year ago. "Thank you." She closed the lid slowly and put the box aside.  
  
"You're welcome, Sydney." Irina turned to leave.  
  
Sydney stood up from the bed. "Mom?"  
  
Irina turned to her expectantly.  
  
Sydney crossed the room and embraced her mother. "I love you." _  
  
There had been so much more she'd wanted to say to thank her mother for giving her a place to stay, for taking care of her, for helping her recover, for helping her feel like she had a home and somewhere she belonged. And for making her feel loved.  
  
Her mother's eyes were glistening when they broke apart.  
  
_"See you tomorrow, Sydney." _  
  
Her mother had left, but Sydney hadn't felt ready to sleep. She had walked out to the balcony, surprised to find it occupied.  
  
_"I'm not going to jump," came a crisp, amused voice, as he repeated familiar words.  
  
"Good," Sydney laughed as Sark turned around to look at her. She breathed in the cool, night air, satisfied with how at home she felt and startled by it too. She had never expected to feel at home there or to feel comfortable in the presence of Sark.  
  
He approached her. "You aren't planning on leaving us, are you?"  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
He watched her carefully.  
  
She returned his serious stare. "Disappointed?"  
  
It took a half second before his stare mutated into a crooked smile. "No," he answered simply, and headed back inside. _  
  
As she watched him go, she had realized they were friends.  
  
So, it shouldn't have surprised her, how unnerving it was to watch him lay lifeless on the bed of the truck. The truck rolled to halt as it parked inside the walls of the compound. She moved her shoulder slightly, forcing Taryn to sit up straight as the girl had nearly been asleep against her.   
  
Sydney stood up, hopped out of the back of the truck, helping Taryn out behind her. A group of guards gathered around the truck. She pointed to Sark. "Get him to the infirmary."  
  
Luís looked at her. "And you."  
  
She sighed and looked at Taryn, thinking she had to be hungry. "_Cuida usted por ella, y obtenga algo que ella puede comer_," Sydney told Luís, thinking she could go and get the girl after she had her shoulder taken care of.  
  
Taryn suddenly moved closer to Sydney as if she understood Sydney's command and didn't like it.  
  
Luís looked at the child and back at Sydney. "_Dudo que ella será permitirlo. _"  
  
Taryn visibly relaxed a little at his words. She gave Sydney a hopeful look that confirmed for Sydney that she had perfectly understood what they were saying.  
  
She let a doctor tend to her shoulder while Taryn sat in a chair nearby. Then, she took the child to her study and got her some hot chocolate while she left a phone message for her mother. Sydney tried to compose her thoughts as she silently watched Taryn sip the drink.  
  
"So, who taught you Spanish?" she questioned, trying to break the ice.  
  
Taryn shrugged, uncomfortably.  
  
Sydney sighed.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
Sydney swallowed, as she realized she had never heard Taryn speak before. She had imagined what she must sound like, but the voice was still entirely new to her. "Argentina," she replied. "But we'll be leaving here in a few hours."  
  
Taryn shifted. "Where will we go?"  
  
Sydney moved to sit beside Taryn. "To one of the places I live." She smiled, trying to make the idea more appealing. "You'll get to meet my mother."  
  
Taryn looked disappointed and put her almost empty mug down on the table. "I want my dad." She looked up at Sydney with tear-filled eyes. "I want to go home."  
  
Sydney sighed. "I know."  
  
Taryn looked up at her seriously. "It's not safe for me to go home, is it?"  
  
Sydney shook her head. "But where I'm taking you, you'll be safe, I promise."  
  
Taryn nodded and looked down. "Will my Dad be there?"  
  
Sydney hesitated only a moment. "I'll bring him there."  
  
Taryn started to smile. "Thank you." She wrapped her arms around Sydney and hugged her.  
  
Startled, Sydney blinked, but awkwardly reached out to return the hug. She kept her hands feather light against the child, afraid that she would hurt her somehow. After a moment she relaxed, but tears stung her eyes as a realization hit her.  
  
She was holding her daughter for the first time in nine years.  
  
_And she didn't want to let go._


	9. Flight of Orphans

A/N: Yes, I'm finally updating, but I did warn you all it would be a few months. And this is 30 pages long so I'll hear no complaints about how long it took. As for when the next update will be, uh...give me a couple months.

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Sydney Bristow was in pieces…_

_9th_ in the _Cry of Orphans_ series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.

**FLIGHT OF ORPHANS**

By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2004

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't take care of this child. What did she have to offer her?

_The truth_.

But that would only add the chaos of her world. She couldn't do that.

She had to find Vaughn.

That was the clearest thought in her mind as she looked at the girl sitting across from her on the plane. The child glanced in her direction every so often, looking for direction. It reminded Sydney how unqualified she was to do anything for her. She hadn't been able to get the girl to eat anything. She hadn't been able to get her to sleep. She hadn't even been able to get rid of the awkward silence.

Nothing she could think of to say seemed appropriate enough or comforting enough. And so the thoughts just piled up inside her.

Sydney tabbed through tracking reports on Sloane while Taryn barely sipped a bottle of water. They could have been on separate planes. They could have been in separate worlds.

And Sydney's world was spinning much too fast. She could barely glance across the aisle and look at Taryn. Seeing the child up-close and in live-action was so beyond the photographs, the visit to the park, and the memories of a pudgy baby.

_A pudgy baby with brown eyes identical to those of the ten-year-old stranger a few feet away._

Sydney realized she was just as much of a stranger to Taryn. She didn't know how she'd imagined it, but she hadn't expected to be able to be right beside her without the girl knowing who she was. Maybe she should have been glad that she wasn't fielding a dozen questions and trying to live up to whatever expectations Taryn might have for a mother. Glad that Vaughn had given her that freedom.

_She wasn't._

But she told herself she didn't need anything else to worry about.

And it was obvious Taryn didn't either. She was so stiff in the chair. Sometimes it appeared she had fallen asleep, but she'd startle and her eyes would pop open. She would scan the plane with just her eyes and swallow hard. She would try to occupy herself by playing with her water bottle or flipping through her magazine. She was hardly as calm as she tried to pretend she was. Her whole body trembled intermittently.

But there was nothing Sydney could do for her.

Taryn needed Vaughn. And she needed to go home.

Sydney tabbed to the next tracking report.

"Sydney?"

She looked up at the little girl.

Taryn held her hands folded in her lap, as she tried to keep them from trembling. She looked cautiously curious. "Do you have any kids?" she questioned.

Sydney froze, momentarily wondering what had prompted the question. Taryn's eyes were fixed on her. Sydney shifted uncomfortably. She had told herself she wasn't going to lie to the girl. A short answer was the most honest one. "I did."

Confusion passed the girl's face and then faded. "Oh."

Sydney almost winced at the awkwardness of it. She could have let the conversation die. She didn't. "Why do you ask?"

Taryn shrugged. "I just wondered." She stared down at her shoes, kicking her legs as they dangled off the chair.

Sydney stared at her a moment longer, before deciding that there really hadn't been any reason behind the question. She let her eyes drift back down to the report on the screen in front of her. But when she looked up, Taryn's eyes were fixed on her again.

"Does it hurt?" Taryn questioned.

"Does what hurt?"

"Your arm."

Sydney glanced at her arm. The pain was dull with the medicine she'd taken for it, but it sharpened with sudden movement. "Yes, it does," she admitted.

The little girl looked down.

Sydney eyed the child's arm, wondering if she was in any pain. "Does yours?"

Taryn shook her head.

Sydney closed her laptop and put it aside. "Are you sure?"

Taryn shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry."

"About my arm? It's going to heal."

"About everything. For hurting you." She frowned to herself. "About Sark." She glanced towards the window, avoiding Sydney's gaze.

"He's going to be all right too, Taryn," Sydney responded, trying to catch the girl's eyes again. "And what happened to him wasn't your fault."

Taryn looked directly at her and straightened. "He was trying to protect _me_," she said seriously. "He was trying to keep them from getting to me, and they hurt him."

Sydney could hear Taryn's voice straining to stay calm and didn't want to upset her any further. "It's okay, Taryn. You're—"

"No, it's not!" the girl countered, forcefully. Angry tears burned her eyes. "It's not okay!"

Sydney swallowed, unsure what to say.

Taryn fiercely wiped the tears that kept coming as she tried to hold in her sobs. "Marina tried to protect me too, and they killed her. I _saw_ them."

Sydney blinked. "You saw…"

Taryn nodded. "I was hiding. And they were yelling at her. And she was crying. And she wouldn't tell them where I was, and they just…they just shot her!" Her face puckered and she curled into her chair, coughing her sobs into her knees.

The more the girl cried, the more Sydney stiffened in her chair. The child had seen her own nanny murdered right before her eyes. What could Sydney possibly say to make _that_ all right?

"I didn't do anything!" Taryn cried. "I didn't try to stop them. And I couldn't get out of the house. I couldn't…And I wanted my Dad. Just like at the safe house. Sark told me to hide, and I heard them…I heard them hurt him. And I had to hide, but it didn't matter. They found me anyway…And they…they…" She was breathing so hard she could hardly finish. "They put that bag over my head. I couldn't…I couldn't get away from them. And then I couldn't breathe…"

Sydney wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

_She turned, blinded by tears, hyperventilating. "She can't breathe! She can't breathe!" _

Sydney inhaled sharply, almost choking on the memory. She felt her own eyes stinging.

"I couldn't--I couldn't breathe and I thought…I thought I was going to die." the girl whimpered. "And I don't know why. I don't know what I did. What did I do, Sydney? Why did they want to hurt me?"

Sydney stood abruptly and took several steps into the aisle. She glanced back to see Taryn sniffling and watching her. Sydney stared back at the girl and opened her mouth to speak.

_"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay."_

But she couldn't catch her breath. She turned away seconds before she felt the tears coming down her cheeks. She quick-walked into the rear cabin of the plane, closed the door firmly and locked it behind her. She clenched her hands into fists. She wanted to pound them into the wall.

_She wanted to scream._

She wanted to explode. She sank back against the door, and her eyes drifted to the phone on the wall beside her. She grabbed it and dialed a familiar number.

"Jack Bristow."

His voice started her tears anew, and she only sniffled into the phone.

"Jack Bristow."

She blinked hard and started to put down the receiver.

"Sydney."

She froze. She'd known he'd know it was her.

He always knew.

He'd always known.

For the first year and a half after she'd lived with her mother in the compound in Belgium, the thought of calling her father hadn't been anything other than a passing thought. Her pregnancy and depression had had her living day-to-day with few aspirations of doing anything but getting through it. But the missions she was going on--a profession she had shared so much with her father--put him on her mind even more often.

Three months after she'd finally gotten her gun back, she had gone on a trip to Mexico City. She couldn't help but notice a woman helping her elderly father as he walked down the street with a cane. She watched them until they had disappeared up the road. She'd returned home late that night and slept late the next morning. But the first thing on her mind when she had awakened was the father and daughter she'd seen and then her own father.

She'd taken her phone from the table beside her, taken a deep breath and dialed. It was only after the phone was ringing that she'd realized the late hour it was in L.A., but before she could think of hanging up, the phone was answered.

_"Jack Bristow."_

His voice had sounded understandably tired. It was after midnight where he was. But she felt a rush of relief just to hear his voice.

_"Jack Bristow," he repeated impatiently._

She'd planned to ask him how he was doing and make sure he knew that she was all right. Try to explain why she'd left. Why she hadn't come back. Why she hadn't talked to him in so long.

_"Sydney."_

It wasn't even a question. Whether he recognized the sound of her breathing or was just that hopeful, she didn't know. She gripped the phone so tightly in her hand that her knuckles whitened. She took a deep breath, ready to confirm for him it was her.

_"Sydney, where are you?"_

And then she'd realized how little she had planned ahead. He was her father. Of course he'd have a million questions. Questions she couldn't answer.

_Questions she didn't have answers to._

She was living in her mother's compound, but her newfound relationship with her mother was exactly that. _Hers_. She couldn't expect her father, and by extension the CIA, to keep it a secret. To just let them be. Her father couldn't know where she was.

A sob had risen in her throat.

_"Sydney?"_

She held the phone away from her a moment, debating if she could even risk staying on the line any longer, but brought it back to her ear to hear her father speaking calmly.

_"Sydney, you need to know, no matter what's happened, I will help you in any way possible."_

She had sent the phone clattering back into its cradle and fallen back onto her bed in tears.

It was so easy for him to say that, but he didn't _know_ what had happened and she doubted he'd still feel the same if he did. She'd felt stupid for even trying to make the call. For trying to make contact with the life that she knew she couldn't a part of anymore. For pretending to be a person that she wasn't anymore.

But the want didn't just go away. Even if she couldn't talk to her father, apart of her wanted to reach out to someone from her life before. A friend she could trust. Someone she had always felt comfortable talking to.

"_Thanks for bringing these boxes over, Will."_

"_No problem, Syd. I can still hardly believe it. You're getting married in a week."_

_Sydney rummaged through the box on the table. "I can hardly believe it myself. Vaughn's so calm about this. He's at work right now. Somehow it feels like I'm the only one _having_ a wedding. He just gets to come."_

_Will grinned. "Any word on your father?"_

_Sydney sighed. "I know he won't miss it, but I also know he still feels like we're rushing into this. He can barely say two words to Vaughn, unless I'm out of the room when I'm sure he tries to scare him out of this. Vaughn assures me it's not working, but I just wish my father could be happy for us."_

"_He's your father. It's his job to be protective."_

"_He thinks we're rushing into things." She frowned. "But even if we are, we've been through so much together. If Vaughn and I can withstand SD-6 and Sloane and the craziness that has been our lives the last two years, I don't know what could come at us now that we couldn't overcome." _

She trusted Will completely. She had no doubt she could talk to him. But she'd brought her problems to his doorstep so many times. She wasn't sure it was right to keep doing so. Nor to burden him with keeping information from Vaughn. If he and Vaughn were even still friends. She hoped they were, that he was still involved in Vaughn and Taryn's lives. And still being as supportive as he always had been for her.

_Even though she hadn't deserved it._

She had finally managed to emerge from her room an hour later and gone into her mother's study. But it wasn't her mother who had been in there.

"_Where's she this time?"_

The first year, Irina had always been around. Sydney had finally requested her space, but she regretted that as it seemed her mother was never around any more.

"_Away on business," Sark answered simply. He wore his usual smirk when he looked up at her, but it suddenly dissipated. "Are you all right?"_

"_Fantastic," she responded, dryly and exited the study._

She'd gone out to the shooting range, intending to do a set. But he had followed her and was on the range before she'd finished loading her gun. He watched her expectantly.

"_I'm prepping for Bombay," she tried._

_He arched an eyebrow. "No, you're not."_

He walked away before she could respond. She thought she'd be relieved he hadn't pushed her, but after three horrible sets, she realized it wasn't helping and went back inside.

Bombay was surprisingly uneventful, but Sydney still wasn't sleeping well when they returned. What had her father thought of her phone call? She'd ended it so abruptly he had to be wondering if she was all right. The last thing she had wanted was to make worry more. She'd called again the next morning. The phone was answered almost immediately.

"_Sydney?"_

The voice had been more hopeful than anything. He'd been waiting, expecting her to call back.

"_Sydney, talk to me. Please. What happened? Why did you leave?"_

She'd again, blinked hard and hung up the phone. It wasn't wrong for her father to have questions.

_But her chest ached to hear them._

She tried not to focus on the words, just his voice.

_She tried._

Sydney had not even attempted to bring the topic up with her mother when she returned. She'd avoiding saying much to Irina at all except about the upcoming meeting with a regular informant at the end of the week. Her mother had seemed preoccupied, and Sydney was thankful for that. She wasn't sure how Irina would feel about of her trying to call Jack. Or how Sark would for that matter. She was nearly silent with him on the flight to Tokyo.

It was routine. They met with Bergh every few months. He usually gave reliable intel on movements of organizations interested in Rambaldi artifacts. She had let Sark talk to Bergh and waited in the car. Though she had been able to hear the conversation between them through the comms, her mind was still elsewhere, contemplating writing her father a letter.

"_Anything else?" Sark questioned._

"_There was one last thing, regarding Sloane." Bergh's voice dropped to a whisper. "He's onto something new. Based on a manuscript from--"_

_Feedback blared into the comms and Sydney didn't hear the next word. Her eyes flew to the open window on the third story of the building behind them. She aimed her gun towards a figure in the window._

_Bergh suddenly doubled over. Sark ducked down, pulling his own weapon. He scurried back towards the car. She fired at the window trying to provide cover as he opened the door to climb in. _

_Her jerked forward, stumbling inside. He gritted his teeth pulling himself all the way in. "Go!" he ordered, then pulled the door shut._

_She slammed the accelerator, jolting the car forward and exited the alleyway._

She had driven madly for three blocks, trying to make sure they weren't being followed. She turned to look at Sark, wondering if he'd gotten the end of Bergh's message. It was then that she'd finally seen that Sark's hand was rigidly gripping his right thigh. Red liquid seeped through his fingers.

Her eyes widened, and she made another turn, pulling off the road.

"_How bad?"_

"_Through and through," he exhaled. _

"_Give me your coat."_

_With another ragged breath, he shook the coat off his right arm. She pulled it around and off his other arm, so he only had to take his grip off his thigh momentarily. She tied it firmly in place, covering both the entry and exit wounds. But as she looked at his soaked thigh and reddened hand, she realized heading for the jet wasn't the best plan._

"_How far is our safe house?"_

"_Maybe twenty minutes from here," Sark responded._

She made it there in fifteen, but the entire drive was a blur to her. Upon arrival, she was out of the car immediately, supporting him on his injured side as she got him into the house. She left him onto the couch as she quickly grabbed the needed bandages, medication and suturing equipment. She handed him pain medicine as she took scissors and cut off his left pant leg.

_She let out a relieved sigh as she finished her exam. "It doesn't look like anything vital has been hit."_

"_Besides my leg and the suit we've now destroyed every piece of," he countered._

"_I can suture this," she answered, focused on the wound. "Dr. Andreas take a more thorough look when we get back, but you'll probably be all right."_

"_Probably?" he questioned. He leaned forward, trying to look at his leg._

_She pushed him back with one hand. "Yeah, unless you get up and dance on it."_

_He smirked. "Was that an invitation?" _

_She stuck him with a needle._

_His face tightened._

_She looked down at the wound innocently. "It looks like we never stocked this place with any local anesthetic."_

_His leg jerked slightly as she poked him again._

"_Try not to move," she ordered._

_He shot her an icy look. "Try to be gentle."_

"_You want to do this yourself?"_

With a pointed look, she continued stitching in silence, having him turn over once so she could stitch the back of his leg.

"_Any idea who could have found out about our meet?" she questioned._

"_Bergh gives up info about so many different organizations. Any one of them could have found out and wanted to silence him. "_

"_But he was telling us about Sloane. I didn't hear the end of his message."_

"_He said that Sloane had gotten a manuscript from Egypt. He was down before he gave any details."_

_Sydney secured a bandage. Sark returned to lying on his back._

"_I'm sorry." She began gathering up the excess supplies._

_Sark arched an eyebrow. "You have no reason to apologize."_

_She frowned at him. "Bergh's dead and you could have been."_

"_Neither of which is your fault."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_It was a routine meet. We had no reason to expect any problems."_

"_My focus wasn't on the mission."_

"_You reacted to the first sign of trouble, Sydney."_

"_Maybe not the _first_ sign."_

"_Stop. I don't want to hear whatever reasons you've come up with to blame this, like everything else, all on yourself."_

_She shook her head. "That's not what I'm doing."_

"_It's exactly what you're doing."_

_She looked him in the eye. "Give me your pants."_

"_What?"_

"_Unless you want to make a fashion statement at the airport, then you need to put on a different pair of pants."_

_He couldn't hide a wince when he started to sit up again._

_A satisfied smile appeared on her face. "Need some help?"_

Helping him change into a new pair of pants was enough of a distraction for both of them. It had been easier to get ready to go to the airport than it had been to try and counter his statements. Dr. Andreas had been called to examine Sark when they got back to the compound, while Irina immediately went to work investigating how their meeting with Bergh had been compromised.

"_Sark will be off field missions for at least several weeks. You could take some time off as well," Irina suggested._

The last thing Sydney had wanted was time off.

"_No, I don't need it," Sydney responded. "I want to help with the investigation."_

She refused to believe anyone besides Sloane was responsible and kept busy doing reconnaissance. She did little besides sleep when she was home, though not nearly enough. She'd hardly visited Sark during his recovery. Dr. Andreas had said he would need to rest for at least two weeks, though he wasn't interested in doing so.

_Sydney looked up from her folder to see Sark hobbling into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"_

_He looked at her. "The question is, what have _you_ been doing?"_

"_I've been letting you rest." She closed her folder halfway. "Which as I recall was supposed to be for another three days at least. You walked down the stairs…?"_

_He sat down in the chair across from her, looking satisfied with himself. "I believe you've been avoiding me."_

"_I've been busy," she gestured to the paperwork spread in front of her._

_He picked up a report from her pile. "I can see that."_

_She took the report from his hands. "Was there something you wanted?"_

_"Is there any particular reason that your entire focus is now on finding out who was responsible for our meet being disrupted?"_

_She looked at him. "There's no mystery, Sark. I'm trying to keep it from happening again."_

_"Admirable," he stated. He tilted his head, fixing his eyes on hers. "If it were to happen again, it wouldn't be your fault."_

_She glared at him. "If it were to happen again, we'd probably both end up dead."_

On that note, she had briskly gathered her paperwork and walked away. She had spent the next two days in Vienna surveying an apartment. She had hoped to find a doctor who may have been working in one of Sloane's labs but he had never returned home. She intended to crash upon her return, however her mother had sent for her. Irina led her into a room across from the library furnished with filing cabinets, bookshelves and a desk and chair. Her mother was silent at first, just allowing her to take in the room.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised. They had talked about it, but not seriously. She hadn't yet decided to stay back then. But having her mother present it to her, really showed her how much Irina wanted her to belong there. She'd stood in the middle of the office, feeling uncertain how to express how much it meant to her.

"_It's been prepared for weeks," Irina admitted. She looked at Sydney with knowing eyes. _

"_I didn't know if you were."_

Irina giving her back her gun had signaled the end of her rehabilitation. If she'd wanted to leave then, to take her leads on Sloane and run, she could have. Her mother wouldn't have stopped her. Sydney could have asked for her own office at that time and told her mother of her desire to stay and work with her. But she was late on explaining all that now.

"_I hadn't even been thinking about leaving," she assured Irina._

"_Sark informed me you'd said so that night. He was surprised I was still forcing you to use the kitchen table as a workspace."_

_Sydney frowned slightly. "I didn't complain to him."_

"_I know," Irina responded. "If there's anything else you need put in here, I will arrange it." _

SD-6, CIA. They'd given her desks, not offices. And it definitely put the tiny closet of a room she'd been given as a college professor to shame.

_Sydney smiled, but shook her head. "It's perfect, Mom."_

She'd seen it in her mother's face that that word meant everything to her. She'd taken the time to move into her office. Then, she'd promptly hunted down Sark. He was doing leg lifts in the gym. She'd walked up and stood over him, with an expectant look.

_He stopped to stare up at her. "I am allowed. I can show you my doctor's note."_

"_What did you say to my mother?"_

_His face relaxed. "Nothing she shouldn't have already known." _

_Sydney sighed and shook her head._

_He smirked. "Don't pretend you don't like it."_

_She stared at him, her resolve to be angry at him disappearing the longer he looked at her. A small smile appeared on her face. "Who says I'm pretending?" The tone in voice was far more humorous than annoyed._

_He gave her an amused look, then resumed his leg lifts._

Sydney had immediately put her office to good use, organizing her information, holding meetings with the teams she wanted to take on raids. Most of the time she'd spent in there just contemplating Sloane's methods. In so many ways, he hadn't changed a bit. Still using people and disposing of them when he found them expendable. The raids she'd thought would gain her access to more information ended up disappointing. Most were abandoned or emptied, almost around only for show. She found that may have been because of the CIA raids that had been done shortly after she'd left L.A.

_"They suspected him for awhile as being responsible for your disappearance."_

Her mother had told her. They'd thought Sloane may have gotten to her and made it _look_ like she had left on her own. Because why would Sydney Bristow leave with hardly a word? She'd spent so much time trying to pretend everything was all right so they wouldn't have to be worried about her. But her next attempt to call her father confirmed that had backfired.

_"Sydney, I'm not going to ask you any questions. As you are able to keep calling, I have to assume that you are all right. That there isn't anything you need for me to do." He sighed. _

There was silence and she feared he'd stop talking.

_"We searched everywhere for you." _

_His voice was quiet, almost sad._

_"We didn't know whether or not to believe your message. We couldn't rule that it could have been a deception by Sloane or another enemy. We had to be sure. But we received information showing you are most likely with your mother." Another pause. "If you truly left on your own, then I regret that I wasn't more available. That you couldn't talk to me, that you had to go to _her_...." His voice strained to keep calm and he fell silent again. _

_She swallowed hard._

_"I miss you, Sydney."_

She had hung up the phone with a shaky hand and buried her face in her hands. It killed her to think about how worried her father must have been. How worried Vaughn and all her friends at the CIA had been. She hadn't even thought about them suspecting foul play. She had been too busy trying to escape from her life to think about trying to leave them a clear reason as to why. She thought she'd protect them from her mistakes and messed up emotions.

Sydney had left her office and was glad to find her mother in the sitting room. She only had to look at Irina and her mother had immediately set aside her work. Irina gave her an attentive look. Sydney moved to stand just behind the couch.

"_When I was six years old, and I was told my mother had died, I knew my life was never going to be the same. I felt so scared. I wasn't certain who was going to take care of me. And I felt alone. I felt abandoned. But I always consoled myself that it hadn't been your choice. That you didn't choose to die and to leave me."_

_Her mother looked her directly in the eye._

_Sydney looked down a moment. "When I found out you weren't dead, it changed everything. It took that away because suddenly it was your choice. Even if the KGB forced you away at first, after you got away from them, you never came back. You let me to continue to think you were dead." _

"_You want to know why," Irina stated._

"_No," Sydney responded, looking up. "I think I know why. Faking your death, even though it was a lie, it gave me closure. I didn't have to grow up wondering why my mother left me, wondering where she was, wondering if she was all right. Even if you'd come back, you wouldn't have been able to stay. It would have taken all that away."_

_Irina narrowed her eyes at Sydney, a question on her face._

"_I didn't give them closure." Sydney sighed. "I left Vaughn a recording. One that didn't even explain why. Just a goodbye. And Dad, I just left a message on his machine." She finally moved to sit on the couch. "They wasted months searching for me."_

"_Not wasted, Sydney. They spent months finding their own closure. When you were six years old, I gave you the illusion of closure and in turn caused you unnecessary pain. They may mourn the loss of your presence in their lives, but they can still have their hope."_

And their fears, Sydney silently added in her head. A part of her wanted to know what Irina would think of the phone calls to Jack. But she worried Irina might disapprove, or like her father, feel like she wasn't doing enough if Sydney needed to call on her other parent. So she hadn't brought it up. She'd smiled half-heartedly and returned to her office. She'd spent most of the day in there and Jessa brought her dinner to her.

When she finally went up to bed, she immediately noticed a packet resting on her pillow. She had picked it up so carefully, and hesitated, preparing herself to take in the images she knew she was about to see.

"_One ham sandwich with extra pickles for the lady."_

_She eagerly took and unwrapped it as she gestured for him to have a seat across from him at the outdoor table. "Thanks Will. I knew I would have time to get this myself before my next class. I thought the cravings jokes were exaggerations. Vaughn's in a meeting. Interrupting him for a sandwich would have been so silly."_

"_Even though it seemed liked life and death when you called me. That is going to be one impatient kid you have in there." He eyed her belly. "Going to think she should have whatever she wants when she wants it."_

_Sydney smiled then frowned. "Oh, I hope not. I don't want to raise some awful, bratty kid."_

"_I'm kidding, Syd."_

"_I know, I just…I'm not going to have a clue what I'm doing."_

"_You'll do fine, Sydney. You can disarm nuclear weapons, you can raise a child."_

"_A child's not a nuclear weapon."_

"_Have you ever changed a diaper?"_

"_Be serious, Will. I didn't exactly have the best of role models. I have no idea what kind of mother I'm going to make."_

_"I am serious. You and Vaughn are going to be great parents."_

At least Will had been half right.

Once the packet was open, she had flipped through it quickly. It was filled with pictures of a bright-eyed two year old, playing in the park, being held up by Vaughn to get a drink of water at a fountain. There were multiple shots of her hugging Donovan, chasing the dog, the dog chasing her. She stopped at the photograph of the child sitting on the front step, lips pursed towards a plastic wand and surrounded by bubbles. The last photo was a shot of Vaughn from the back headed towards his car. The little girl was asleep in his arms with her head resting on his shoulder.

Alive. Happy. Safe.

And she'd had nothing to do with it.

_She curled up on her still made bed at an angle, her back to the pillows, hugging the packet of photographs and staring at the others atop her dresser. She felt as though she was choking somehow. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe. She didn't respond to the faint knock on her door. She didn't open her eyes when she felt light fill the room from the door being cracked open. It was closed again, whomever assuming she was asleep._

_She sighed and dragged herself off the bed, peeking into the hallway to see Sark walking away. "Hey."_

_He stopped and turned back around. "Did I wake you?"_

_She shook her head and stepped into the hallway. _

She had often tried to convince herself that she knew Vaughn and Taryn were all right. That she had accepted that and wasn't going to be anxious about them any longer. But every time she received the new pictures, there was an overwhelming sense of relief. And it made her realize how much she truly did worry.

_She held up the photos and smiled, slightly. "How long can you keep doing this?"_

"_How long do you want me to?"_

_Her smile widened, gratefully, and she turned to head back into her room._

It had been able to take her mind off her conversation with her mother. And she'd thought it was time to stop worrying about what she'd left behind.

She went into her mission the next week completely focused. Sark's recovery was nearly complete and it was to be her last solo mission. Intel told them that the manuscript Sloane had acquired from Egypt had been written in a new Rambaldi code. It was believed that the code key was being held in a lab to Sao Paulo and she had definitely wanted to get to it before Sloane did. She gained access to the lab by attending an art auction on the floor above the lab and making her way down a stairwell when the guards were otherwise distracted. She had easily circumvented the security system and gained access to the display case. And then her mission had taken an unfortunate turn.

"_Step away from the display case."_

Out of her peripheral vision, she could see a weapon trained on her. She hadn't stepped away. She hadn't thought twice, just reacted.

_She surreptitiously pulled her gun from her jewel encrusted, black handbag and whirled around. His gun went off, one bullet burrowing into the wall behind her. She fired three shots into the man. The gun tumbled from his hands and he sank to the ground, gasping. _

_She grabbed the code key and placed it into her bag. She turned to leave, glancing down at the man to make sure he was still disabled. _

_His eyes were wide, but they suddenly flashed with recognition of her. "Bristow?" he choked out, in disbelief. "Sydney Bristow?" He wanted her to answer him, as if he couldn't believe without confirmation._

_She swallowed and knelt beside his dying form. _

"_Sydney?" he questioned, once more, before his eyes rolled back and the life went out of them. His fake mustache was dislodged and she removed his glasses._

She had recognized him then. James Lennox. A CIA agent who had once been doubled. Who she'd been on a mission on. Worked with. Sympathized with when his partner, a woman he loved, had been killed.

_She had killed an agent of the CIA._

She had gotten up, horrified and hurried to her extraction point. The trip home was a blur to her. She handed over the code key. She had gone up to her bedroom and stopped to see her reflection in the mirror. The black wig, the red lipstick, the dark eye shadow and low cut red dress.

It was no wonder Lennox hadn't recognized her. That he couldn't believe Sydney Bristow had been working against him. He hadn't _wanted _to believe it was her. She certainly hadn't been the Sydney Bristow he knew. The one that never would have dreamed of working _against_ the CIA without good cause. The one who was strong and resourceful and caring.

As she had taken off the wigs and washed away the makeup, she knew that didn't change her back. She had always thought she might disappear behind the disguises she wore. It had finally happened. She wasn't _that _Sydney Bristow anymore. She hadn't been in a long time. Even before she'd left home, she hadn't been strong and resourceful. She'd been lost and desperate and helpless. And in overcoming that, she had changed even more.

She had let this happen.

_She had killed an agent of the CIA._

Her first collided with her reflection. The mirror was smashed. Her reflection shattered.

_Her identity fractured._

She had run cold water across her bruised hand and disposed of the mirror herself. She had settled into a bath with a glass of wine, but it had done little to relax her.

_Sydney Bristow was in pieces._

She barely slept that night and stayed in bed much of the day. No one bothered her. They had probably assumed she was jet lagged.

Sydney had finally emerged in the evening, ate a light dinner, and then headed out to the gym to take out her frustration on a punching bag. She shouldn't have been surprised her long and unusually timed workout didn't go unnoticed. She knew he was behind her before he said a word.

_She made a series of kicks at the punching bag before turning to look at him. _

_He was dressed for a work out. "Interested in a moving target?"_

_She frowned at him. "I'm not going to spar with you when you're recovering."_

"_I'm done recovering," he responded, doing some warm-up stretching._

_She shook her head. "Unless you want something broken, you should leave me alone."_

_He took a ready stance. "You're angry."_

"_Whatever gave you that idea," she responded, dryly, moving across the mat towards him._

_He eyed her carefully. "At yourself."_

_She circled him. "I have every right to be." She narrowed her eyes at him._

_He tilted his head. "Do you?" he aimed a cross at her. _

_She evaded and they continued circling each other. "I killed a man. Someone that didn't deserve it." _

"_Did he attack you first?" Sark questioned. He made two quick jabs that she blocked._

"_Yes." She aimed a roundhouse kick towards his head._

_He ducked. "Then he deserved it. You did what you had to do."_

_She advanced towards him. Another kick made light contact with his abdomen and he recoiled. "You don't know that!" she argued. "You don't know who I've become."_

_He circled, moving in. He jabbed. "Situations change." She ducked. "You adapt." His kick clipped her shoulder. "Or you don't survive." _

_She rolled, getting up again quickly. "I'm not who I want to be."_

_He circled her. "Or not who you used to be." He took a deep breath, starting to get winded. "If you could stop blaming yourself for five seconds, then maybe you'd see there's nothing wrong with that."_

_She advanced on him again, angrily, with quick movements. A jab and a cross he blocked, but a hard kick connected with stomach knocking the wind out of him. Her follow-up kick hit his left thigh and he grabbed onto her, pulling her down on top of him as he fell back first onto the mats. She tried to break her wrists from his grasps, but he rolled them over, pinning her. He smirked and she kneed him, rolling them over again and pinning him. She held him there, hovering over him as they both tried to catch their breath._

"_I think I win," she announced, looking him in the eye._

_He didn't say anything, only lifted his head and pressed his lips to hers._

_She released his arms immediately, ending the kiss and starting to get up. He held her in place. _

"_Let go," she ordered._

"_Stop," he answered. He released her hands._

_She stared down at him. "Stop what?"_

"_Telling yourself this is a game."_

"_Isn't it?" she questioned, climbing off of him._

_He sat up, looking her in the eye. "Not to me."_

_She blinked and stood up. She walked over to the bench and grabbed a towel, burying her face in it a moment before looking at him again. "You don't know me."_

_He stood slowly, watching her. "I know you." _

"_Not well enough for…this," she countered._

"_Don't doubt me, Sydney." He sat down on the bench beside her. "I've watched you since the day you arrived here. I saw you fall apart. I saw how hard it was for you to make your recovery. Perhaps you are only now realizing how much you've changed; I'm not. And I care about _you_, just as you are, right now." _

It was then that she'd realized that this wasn't his way of getting the last word. He wasn't going to suddenly burst into an amused laugh at the stunned look on her face. His feelings were real. And he had been watching her, obviously expecting her to say _something_ about how she felt.

_She didn't know how she felt._

She had gotten up and left. He hadn't called after her or tried to follow her. She left the gym, crossed the compound, gone upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom. She didn't know how long she lay on her bed.

Her eyes fell on the picture packet. And she was reminded of all the attention Sark had paid to her in recent weeks. Enough to know the exact time she really needed the pictures. The way he talked to her mother about the office. She sat down on the bed and fingered the scars running up her forearms. He had seen her fall apart. He'd found her. _Every time_, he'd found her.

He knew she'd left behind her family. The life she'd had in LA. And he knew she hadn't just forgotten about it. That she couldn't.

_And he'd never judged her. _

He had never seemed to think her weak. He only wanted her to stop blaming herself and move on. Far easier said than done, and she had wondered why he cared. But it wasn't as if he was wrong. She couldn't dwell on the past forever. Not without it eating her up.

_Sydney ran herself a bubble bath and relaxed into the tub. She knew she wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. _

There were too many thoughts swirling around her head. She knew she felt safe with him on missions. She felt comfortable in, even enjoyed, his company. Even their arguments were more playful than anything. She valued his opinion. She found herself wondering how it had made him feel that she had just walked away. She didn't want to hurt him. Why had she run? It wasn't because she didn't care about him. She knew she did.

But having a relationship with him would be moving on. Really moving on. It was Sark's voice in her head as she stepped out of her long bath, her fingers wrinkled.

"_They are carrying on without you. It's not a crime if you do the same."_

Not a crime. She liked the pictures. She liked seeing that they were all right. She tortured herself when she didn't know because she'd already made her decisions.

_"Sydney if this has made you want to leave, to go back to Vaughn--"_

_"I can't go back. I can't ever go back."_

She walked back into the bedroom and opened a jewelry box, fingering her wedding band.

_It was her fourth anniversary._

_It was her last anniversary._

She closed the box and looked at the pictures on the dresser. In her head, she'd made so many decisions.

_She wasn't going to go back to Vaughn._

_She'd given up her baby and she'd cried about it._

_This was her home now._

She'd even said them out loud. To Sark.

"_You aren't planning on leaving us, are you?"_

_She shook her head. "No."_

To her mother.

"_I hadn't even been thinking about leaving."_

She had brushed out her wet hair and gotten dressed again. If she wasn't going back, then why wasn't she moving on?

_What _are_ you doing here, Sydney?_

She had walked to his room and knocked on the door. He had opened it and given her a questioning look.

"_It's 3am, Sydney."_

"_Let's go for a run."_

_He looked reluctant, but nodded. "Ten minutes."_

She had been on the path stretching when he arrived nine minutes later. He stretched in silence beside her a few minutes.

"_One race," she decided._

He was hardly enthusiastic about it, but agreed. He moved to stand beside her on the path, and she took off running. It was a sprint down to the path until it curved and a sprint back. Despite her head start, they finished the race exactly tied.

_Sydney turned back towards the path, starting a cool down walk, breathing hard. "When I first came, you used to ask me every day why I came here." She inhaled deeply. "I never had an answer for you, but one day, you just stopped asking. Why?"_

_He walked with her, matching her pace. "It didn't matter anymore."_

_She stopped on the path in front of him, forcing him to stop a foot away from her. "Why not?"_

"_The reason you came here had no bearing on the fact that you needed help. And I know the questions only made you feel as though I wanted you to leave."_

_She stepped closer to him. "Didn't you?"_

"_At first." He looked her in the eye. "I didn't quite know what to think of you."_

_She returned the stare. "When you kissed me yesterday, I didn't know what to think. And after everything you said, I was surprised and overwhelmed and… I'm sorry I ran away." She moved her face inches from his. "I don't want to run away."_

_She pressed her lips to his, in no hesitant peck, initiating a kiss that was long and intense._

She had decided if she was getting into this, then she couldn't bear to dance around it. She knew she could have taken more time to think about it. But she didn't want to talk it to death or analyze all the emotion out of it.

When they parted, Sark was giving her a quizzical look.

"_Sydney, I don't want you to feel forced—"_

_She shook her head. "I don't."_

Sark didn't question her after that. He'd only given her a sly smile and they walked hand-in-hand down the paths. The sun had risen by the time they headed back to the compound.

"_I have to leave for Shanghai," he reminded her._

_She sighed. "I'll see you when you get back."_

She'd found it difficult to focus that day, finding herself missing his company and having a dozen things come to mind that she wanted to talk to him about. She'd gone up to her bedroom and cleared the pictures of Vaughn from her dresser, placing them in a box. She replaced the picture of Vaughn tying Taryn's shoe with just Taryn blowing bubbles in the frame beside her bed.

Late that night she'd gone into the gym, intending to exercise until she finally felt tired enough to sleep. But her mother had been sitting on the floor in the gym. So many times growing up, she'd wished she could just talk to her mother whenever she wanted, it was satisfying to actually have that opportunity. She'd just watched Irina meditating at first. Finally, she'd sat down cross-legged in front of her.

Her mother had opened one eye and looked at her. Then, she'd taken a deep breath and closed it again.

"_Would you like to learn?"_

"_I'd like to talk."_

_Irina's eyes remained closed. "I'm listening."_

Sydney had taken a deep breath.

"_Mom, do you like who you are?" _

"_What is this about, Sydney?"_

"_Did you ever wish you'd made different choices? Been a different person?"_

"_I have my regrets, Sydney. But I've accepted the choices that I made and their consequences." Her mother's eyes opened. "You haven't."_

_Sydney looked down. "I have done things I will never forgive myself for." Sydney sighed. "I…I don't know who I am anymore."_

"_You're my daughter," Irina said simply._

"_But beyond that—" Sydney began._

"_You've started over, Sydney. Beyond that is what you get to decide now." Irina's eyes closed again._

_Sydney was silent a moment, watching her mother. "Teach me?"_

A smile had tugged at the corners of Irina's mouth and then she'd begun to give instructions.

As she contemplated her mother's words, Sydney found herself nervously anticipating Sark's return. Her identity was now going to be based on the choices she'd made. She had made the choice that she wasn't going to be alone. Even as a nagging part of her felt as though that was what she deserved. But another part of her just wanted to be happy, truly happy. To know if that was possible even if she didn't have the life she'd planned on.

She'd felt almost nervous as she was informed that Sark's plane had landed and he was en route to the compound. Somehow afraid that everything they'd said to each other had ceased to be real in the time he was gone. But she needn't have worried. He found her in her office moments after he arrived.

_"Hey. Everything go all right?" She looked up from her desk._

_"As expected." He moved from the doorway._

"_How's your leg?"_

"_A little sore," he admitted. He smiled slyly. "I have something for you."_

_She smiled. "Oh?"_

_He held out a rectangular black velvet box._

_She raised an eyebrow. "I thought flowers were the conventional thing for this stage."_

_"I hope you didn't get into this hoping I'd be conventional."_

_She looked at the box in front of her. "I don't know. Does it mean I'll never get flowers?" _

_He leaned in close to her face. "If I promise you flowers, will you open it?"_

_She grinned, amused. "Yes. If you promise." She finally turned and flipped open the box._

A tiny gasp had escaped her as she'd stared at the sparkling, medium-blue sapphire that hung on the end of an 18k white gold chain.

_She frowned slightly. "I don't know if I can accept this."_

"_You don't like it?"_

"_No, it's beautiful. I just…it's beautiful. Thank you."_

She had taken the necklace from the box and turned so he could help her put it on. Then, she turned back around, smiling widely and gave him a quick peck.

_He gave her a crooked smile. "I have a meeting with your mother. I have to go before she wonders why I'm late."_

"_See you later."_

Telling Irina about their relationship wasn't something they talked about. They didn't talk about hiding it either, but they seemed to mutually agree as they still behaved as normal around her.

Sydney was thankful for once about the minimal leads on Sloane. Less time in the field meant more time to spend with Sark. Even as there was nothing new or spectacular about the things they did together at first, Sydney found spending time with him still felt different. She knew he wasn't spending time with her out of boredom or a sense of responsibility. And it gave her a reason to focus on someone besides herself. Not that she didn't still focus on herself at times.

"_Let's go out."_

Sark had suggested one evening.

"_I want to but, I have nothing to wear."_

_Sark arched an eyebrow. "You have a closet full of clothes."_

It was true. She had packed so many clothes when she'd first left L.A. but when it came to formal dining, she found it difficult to wear any of them. They all called up too many memories. And the only new clothes she'd gotten since coming there were maternity clothes.

"_I'll go shopping and buy some new clothes. Then, we'll go out."_

Sark had reluctantly agreed, randomly saying they'd figured out something else for dinner.

_Sydney stepped into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"_

"_What does it look like I'm doing?" Sark responded, adding some spices to a pot of boiling liquid._

"_You're cooking…" She looked around, at the various ingredients on the counter and the pots on the stove. Nothing looked to be burning. "I've lived here two years. How come your abilities as a chef are only just now being revealed to me?"_

_He smirked, his eyes twinkling proudly. "You can't learn everything about me at once." He stirred a pot on the stove. He extended the spoon to her and she took over stirring._

_She watched him. "But what if I want to know everything?"_

"_What if you don't?"_

"_What if I want to know…" She debated a moment. "Why you call yourself Mr. Sark."_

_He took a peek into the oven, grabbed an oven mitt and removed a pan of rolls. "I have to call myself something."_

"_But it's not your real name, is it?" _

"_No," he admitted, finally taking the spoon back, stirring twice more and turning down the heat._

_She stepped back only enough to allow him access to the stove, but remained right beside him. She looked him in the eye. "So, what is your name?" _

_He put a lid on the pot and put the spoon aside. "I was born Julian Lazarey." His tone was cold. "It was a name given to me by an abusive father with whom I wish to have no connection." _

_Her eyes narrowed at him. "I'm sorry."_

She thought she could hear the severed connection he felt to his former self in the detached tone with which he'd spoken his name. She'd let the subject die for the moment and focused on grabbing herself a plate. Filling her stomach in a way she couldn't fill the void that she felt distanced her from who she had been. She could tell by the way Sark looked at her through the meal he knew it was still on her mind, but she was thankful he didn't try to make her talk about it.

She'd gone up to her room after dinner and cleared out the dresses in her closet that she couldn't bring herself to wear. She'd boxed them up. She'd thought she could get rid of them, but as she sorted through them, a few still ended up in the box with pictures of Vaughn. But she did take the box to storage, rather than leaving it in the room.

Sydney had gone shopping the next day and bought dresses without memories. She'd even gone to the hair dresser, and intended to get her hair cut back to its normal length. But again she'd wondered why she was trying to go back. She'd let her hair be trimmed but let it stay the several inches it had grown past her shoulders.

As she'd been trying on the outfits as she'd returned home, the date on her receipt had leaped out at her. She sank onto the bed still clutching the red dress she had been taking the tag off of. She looked up at the photo of nine month old Taryn on the dresser.

The room had spiraled around her.

Two years. It had been exactly two years.

Since that horrible, horrible day.

_"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay," Sydney told the baby. Taryn kicked Sydney's hand away, and flailed her arms, completely angry. "Taryn, you need to calm down," Sydney said more firmly. Her own head ached worse with the cries. Pounded. "Taryn, please...."_

Since she'd had any contact with Vaughn.

_"I don't know how to do this. I've been trying so hard to pretend that everything's alright. It's not and you know it's not. And I can't pretend anymore. I know you'll be alright. I know you'll both be alright. Probably better." Her voice cracked. "Goodbye, Michael."_

Since she'd actually been face-to-face with Taryn.

_Sydney held the baby against her chest and began to whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry, Taryn. I'm so sorry."_

_Sydney lowered her cheek against her baby's cheek. She ran her hand across the baby's skin and breathed in the smell of her face. She smoothed the baby's silky brown hair._

_She pulled the baby back from her chest. She lowered the baby back into her carrier, stuffed her cell phone in the bottom compartment. She walked briskly through the rotunda and straight into Vaughn's office. She placed the pen on his desk, put down the baby carrier in front of the desk and leaned over it. Taryn gripped onto her hair._

_"I do love you, Taryn," she whispered. The tears ran down her cheeks again and rained right onto the baby. "I do love you," she said it, again louder._

Since she'd spoken to her father.

_"Dad, I...I didn't want you to worry. I just couldn't stay there anymore. Not with him. I tried, please believe that. And please...just let me go."_

Two years.

She couldn't stay at that room looking at the pictures. She'd escaped, heading down the stairs quickly. The door to her mother's study was closed. She was apparently in a meeting. Sydney had turned and gone into the library.

Sark was apparently researching something as he sat with a book in hand as he tapped into the laptop on the table in front of him.

_She hesitated in the doorway. Just as Sark looked up at her, she turned and left the room._

_"Sydney?"_

She had felt tears sting in her eyes and actually picked up the pace, heading out the side door to the courtyard. She broke into a run once she was outside. Around the building, towards the paths. She had glanced back once, but no one had been behind her. And then as she'd headed around the bend in the path, she'd slammed right into him.

_They both toppled to the ground, her on top of him. Tears still streaming down her face, she raised her fists towards him, landing one blow on his chest before he grabbed her wrists. He stared up at her with concerned eyes._

_She collapsed on top of him sobbing. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, sitting up carefully._

There had been no questions. No conversation. Maybe he'd known what day it was. Or maybe it hadn't mattered to him. When she finally finished, he walked her back to the house.

_"I'm sorry," she began._

_But he placed a hand to her cheek and shook his head, "Don't." The look in his eyes was serious, but not cold. "Get some rest."_

He'd disappeared back into the library. She'd stood in the sitting room a moment before turning to head upstairs. Her mother was standing in the doorway to her study.

_"Are you all right?"_

_Sydney nodded. "Yes."_

_Irina looked at her with eyes narrowed. "Good night. Sydney."_

She knew her mother had known about her and Sark after that, but they still didn't talk about it. Sydney had found herself more preoccupied with being all right. The weeks following that day had been difficult. She'd been listless with a limited appetite. Some days, she'd sit in her bedroom wishing she could purge her memories as easily as she could remove the pictures from her dresser.

_It just would have been so much easier if she didn't remember them._

But it would have been that much harder too.

Still, she had her regrets about her recovery time. There were moments when she got the feeling she would never be over it.

She returned from a two-day surveillance operation in Frankfurt. It was just past dawn and Sark greeted her at the edge of the courtyard and walking with her back towards the building.

_"You're up early," she noted, just as they neared the doorway. She leaned back against the wall, just beside the door._

_He watched her intently. "I can go sleep now, if you like."_

_She made a face, sticking her tongue out momentarily. _

_He leaned towards her, resting his hands on the wall on either side of her. "Your tongue better be careful. Mine might take that as a challenge."_

_"Oh?" She grinned mischievously and flicked her tongue at him again._

_He kissed her, his tongue taking on the challenge of hers. He pulls his hands from the wall and rested them on her waist. _

He'd finally pulled away to take a breath. She had looked at him, but felt tears starting to come to her eyes. She blinked them back immediately and took a deep breath, not wanting him to think he'd made her cry. Of course he hadn't. There wasn't anything to cry about. She tightened her jaw, trying to hold a composed face. He'd raised an eyebrow at her. She'd turned and headed into the building, without saying anything, just trying to shake the extremely uncomfortable feeling that had just run through her. Sark had followed just behind her.

"_Sydney?"_

It wasn't anything about him. She knew that. And she didn't want him to think that.

"_The guards were watching us," she said, quickly. _

He had watched her a moment longer and then let it go without argument. She'd taken it as the early jitters of a new relationship. The feeling wasn't constant, but it didn't just go away.

_Sydney checked her watch as she closed the safe house door behind them. "Extraction in six hours." It was enough time to eat or perhaps grab a short nap. She set aside her gear and plopped down on the couch, lying on her back. _

_Sark unzipped his bulletproof vest and deposited it on the table along with his gun and holster. He lowered himself onto the end of the couch._

_Sydney smiled at him. "Today was a good day." She held out the disc they'd copied during their operation._

_He looked at her and smirked. "Yes, it was." He took the disc and set it on the table. Then, he crept across the couch, hovering over her._

"_Almost perfect," she continued. Her eyes slid closed her eyes as he showered her face with kisses. She turned her head and he stopped. She opened her eyes. "What?"_

_He gave her a questioning look. "Are you all right?"_

_She frowned at him, as he backed off of her and she sat up. "I wish you wouldn't do that."_

"_Yes, it's horrid of me to be concerned about you."_

"_Unnecessarily. I don't know how many times over the past few weeks, you've looked at me like…" She paused to form her thoughts. "Like you think I'll break."_

_He stood up. "Probably the same number of times you've gone cold when I've touched you."_

_She stiffened. "We've been busy. I've been tired. It's not every time."_

"_No, it isn't," he agreed._

"_So stop worrying about it."_

_Sark shook his head. "I am not going to argue with you about whether or not I have a right to be concerned."_

He'd headed for the kitchen to make something to eat and she'd lain back down on the couch. It had been a quiet trip back to Belgium and an even quieter next couple of days. She wanted to apologize to him for the way she'd reacted, but she doubted she could really do so without an explanation. He was right. There had just been moments where everything had seemed perfect.

_And all she'd wanted to do was cry or run away._

She couldn't explain it. She stayed up several nights trying. But then spent several hours in the gym meditating trying to make up for lost sleep.

_She felt pressure on the mats, but didn't move from her cross-legged position until he'd moved directly in front of her. She heard him sit down. She opened her eyes. He was cross-legged, his electric blue eyes fixed on her._

_She sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I know I feel happy when I'm with you. I guess sometimes almost too happy." She laughed, uncomfortably, not even sure she made any sense._

_He gave her a thinking frown. "You deserve to be happy," he said, seriously._

_She looked down, feeling a lump in her throat. "I don't know what I deserve."_

"_Even if you feel you've made mistakes—"_

_She glanced up at him, but could barely meet his intense gaze. "Not just mistakes, Sark. I've done things that I can't ever change, can't ever fix, and can't just pretend never happened."_

"_So stop trying, Sydney—"_

_She gave him a furious frown and held a scarred wrist towards him. "Sydney Bristow's dead. _I_ killed her."_

_He caught her wrist and pulled her to him. "No, she isn't," he countered, harshly. He grabbed her other arm, sitting on his knees and held her facing him. "You are alive, Sydney. Stop trying to punish yourself because of it."_

_She shook her head, refusing to look at him, but she didn't pull away. "You don't know--"_

_"I don't _need _to know," he interjected. "There's nothing you could tell me you've done that would make me believe that this," he twisted her wrist up again to expose the scar, "is what you deserve."_

_Her eyes fixed on the ugliness of the scars, and she blinked._

_"We both have our dark pasts. The things we've done that we regret. Though I know, I cannot focus on that everyday. I do my best to forget." He turned her hand back so the scars weren't visible. He loosened his grip on her and just held her hands again his chest. He tilted his head, catching her eyes. "Let me help you forget."_

_She took a deep breath, taking one of her hands from his grasp and running it through his hair. He placed his free hand to her cheek. She brushed her lips against his, closing her eyes. He pecked around her mouth as his hands settled on hips, guiding her back until she was lying on the mat. She grasped onto his forearms as he kissed down her neck._

It wasn't as if the guilt and the doubts immediately disappeared. But she refused to let them stop her. He was there and that was what she wanted. For him to be there. To be safe, and reassuring and to completely accept her, whoever she was, whoever she was going to be. She didn't know if they had a future together, but she knew when she was with him, the dark memories of her past life didn't come to her haunt her quite as often.

She needed to forget.

He let her forget.

They didn't make any immediate plans or distant future commitments to each other. Taking it one day at a time suited both of them. There were many things Sydney liked. While it didn't replace the friendships that she'd left behind, she wasn't as lonely for the emotional support that she'd used to get from her friends.

In her own room, the first thing her eyes would fall upon in the morning was her dresser full of pictures. Some days they were comforting but some days they bothered her. She never knew which it was going to be, or how she was going to feel when she woke up. Waking up in Sark's room didn't have that uncertainty. The first thing her eyes would fall upon was him, and the mischievous smile he managed to have even while sleeping only made her grin.

Though the relaxed feeling she felt did catch her off guard one morning. She had crawled on top of him, inches from his face when he opened one eye to look at her. She gave him a searching stare.

"_Are you happy?"_

_He shut his eye back. "Yes."_

"_It seems like you used to get some enjoyment out of trying to get my attention. I just wonder, now that you have it…do you miss the chase?"_

_He opened his eyes again and smiled crooked. "Yes, you're very boring now." _

_She made a light swat at him, then managed a smirk of her own. "I think I can do something about that."_

But there were still days Sloane was on her mind.

_She peeked into Sark's room. "Do you have the reports from Amsterdam?"_

"_Your mother wanted to review them. The disc is in her office. Probably in her desk, somewhere." _

Sydney had entered her mother's study and began rummaging through the desk of neatly arranged files and papers. She pulled open a desk drawers, finding plenty of pencils, stamps and currency but not the disc. She pulled open a bottom drawer and froze.

On top of the papers in the drawer was a photograph of a wrinkled, pink baby, with eyes barely open and hair nearly black. Her baby.

_Her other baby._

The one she didn't know the whereabouts of. The gender. The name. The health. She had suddenly noted how small it was. So much smaller than Taryn. She reached into the drawer and picked up the photograph, looking at the back. There was something written in her mother's handwriting.

"_Two weeks."_

She had also recognized her mother's hands wrapped around the infant in the picture. She had tried to reason in her head why her mother had still had the baby at two-weeks. Had it been that long before another family had been located? Unless her mother had kept—

_Sydney shut the drawer abruptly and exited her mother's office and wandered into the kitchen._

"_Find it?" Sark questioned._

"_No," she answered, quietly. Sark gave her a questioning look. "Just never mind."_

She had passed off some excuse about having a headache and needing to lie down to escape to her bedroom. She had made it into the room and shut the door before her legs seem to give out underneath it. Her heart pounded so hard her chest ached. She had reached for the phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in weeks.

"_Dad."_

"Sydney, I need to know. Taryn, have you found her? Is she all right?"

Sydney stared at the phone in her hand, her knuckles white from her rigid grip on the receiver. Her palm was sweaty. "Yes," she whispered. She swallowed hard.

Taryn was all right. It was she who was falling apart.

"Then, you can handle this, Sydney. You're her mother."

Sydney frowned, deeply, standing up. "And look what that's gotten her," she snarled through clenched teeth.

Sloane had gone after Taryn because of her. Taryn had been traumatized because of her.

Sydney hung up the phone before her father could say another word. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath before opening the door to head back into the main cabin. It was quiet. She didn't hear Taryn sobbing anymore. She walked up the aisle slowly. She could see the top of the girl's head, but it didn't turn when she stood just behind the row. Sydney took a bracing deep breath and moved to stand in front of the chair.

Taryn was curled up in the chair. Her eyes were closed. She was breathing evenly. Her cheeks were tear-stained. Sydney sighed. The child had cried herself to sleep. Sydney stood still a moment, just watching her breath. Then, she grabbed a blanket and covered the girl, careful not to wake her.

Sydney swallowed and sat down in the seat beside Taryn, mesmerized simply by watching her. The girl shifted position, her hair falling across her face. Sydney hesitated a moment before reaching out a hand. She gently pushed the strand of hair back behind her daughter's ear.

Glassy eyed, she whispered.

"_I'm sorry, Taryn. I'm so sorry."_


	10. Fears of Orphans

A/N: Hello! It has been awhile, hasn't it? I thought it was only fair to mention that the first place I always post is I have the same screen name there and post this fic in the S/V fan fiction section. I've had this part posted there for months but like the part and kept refusing to post it in its entirety, so I got upset and didn't post, hoping it's something that would fix itself in time. It hasn't, so here I am finally updating, with this one story in two halves.

To the person who asked about signaling flashbacks, in general the italics are meant to be the signal. Other than that, all I can tell you is to read carefully. You'll note almost all stories are formatted to start in present, spend the majority of the middle in the past through flashbacks and have present again at the end. (Occasionally it will end with a flashback though not without revisiting the present first.) Enjoy :)

Thanks for the beta, Bek!  
DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Releasing silent screams…_  
_10th_ in the _Cry of Orphans_ series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.

_For Paty, who I shall miss dearly. Best wishes and huge hugsies._

**FEARS OF ORPHANS**  
By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2005

It was a collision of worlds. Of time. Past and present.

She stood in the center of the sitting room. The child was right beside her. Her mother emerged from the study and came to stand two feet away from them.

They studied each other. Three pairs of brown eyes. Three heads of golden brown hair.

_Three generations caught in one endless moment. _

A moment that didn't seem to be lost even on the child, who without the knowledge of who stood beside and in front of her, still seemed to absorb the emotion.

Sydney finally took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Taryn, this is my mother, Irina."

Taryn looked at Irina with curious eyes.

"Mom, this is my friend, Taryn."

Irina's eyebrow arched towards Sydney, but Sydney just shook her head. Irina directed her attention to the child with a wide, knowing smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Taryn."

Taryn returned the greeting with a hesitant smile.

"You've had a long trip. There's dinner in the kitchen for you."

Sydney gave the girl a hopeful look. But Taryn showed little interest in getting something to eat. She was instead taking in the room around her. Her eyes examined the furniture, the walls, what she could see of the landing beyond the staircase.

Irina followed the girl's eyes up the stairs. "We've prepared a room for you, Taryn. Would you like to see it?"

Taryn nodded, curious to see more of the compound.

Irina motioned to the maid. "Nina will show you to it. Let her know if there's anything else you need."

Taryn studied the maid a moment before looking at Sydney.

Sydney nodded to the girl. "It's okay."

Nina smiled. Taryn followed the maid up the stairs. Sydney and Irina silently waited until Nina and Taryn disappeared up the stairs and around the corridor.

Then, Irina turned to Sydney and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Sydney's eyes watered as she hugged her mother fiercely enough that she winced from pain to her shoulder when she finally stepped back.

Her mother looked concerned as Sydney shrugged her shoulder trying to ease the throbbing. "It's fine, Mom," Sydney began, hoping to put the focus on the fact that she was in one piece, rather than the hole in her shoulder.

Irina let it go for the moment and took a seat in a chair. "Any word on Sark?"

Sydney sat down on the couch. "I got a call just as the plane was landing. They finished the surgery. The doctor thinks he'll be okay to travel in a day or so."

"You look exhausted," her mother noted.

Sydney sighed. "It's been a tiring day. At least, Taryn slept a little on the plane."

Her mother nodded. "How do you think she's doing?"

Sydney frowned, uncomfortably, somehow unsure if she was really qualified to judge. "She's been… so traumatized. I can't get her to eat anything. She knows something's happened to her father, even though I haven't told her what. And, she thinks this is all her fault."

Irina studied her. "And you think it's all yours."

Sydney stiffened. "Everything that she has been put through over the past few days is because of me. Because of decisions _I_ made"

A disapproving look crossed her mother's face. "Because of _you_, Sydney, Taryn is upstairs, alive and safe."

"And Sloane has Vaughn," Sydney responded.

"Sloane is only using him to lure you there."

Sydney's hand drifted to the slip of paper in her pocket. "It's working."

Irina's eyes narrowed. "Sloane will not take what he has perceived as your betrayal lightly, Sydney. It's suicide for you to go to him. Let the CIA rescue Vaughn."

Sydney shook her head. It would never work. She'd spent enough time with Sloane to know that. "If the CIA goes _near_ Sloane, Vaughn's dead."

"Vaughn could be dead already," Irina stated calmly. "And you'll only orphan your daughter by going after him."

"No, Mom. I'll be orphaning her if I don't." Sydney stood up.

"She's already started to attach herself to you."

Sydney stared down at the rug on the floor. "When we were on that plane, she started to talk about everything that happened to her. She started to cry, and she looked at me like…like I was supposed to comfort her and I…I couldn't do it. I just…walked away." She swallowed and looked her mother in the eye. "I'm a stranger. Vaughn's her father. I came here to leave Taryn some place where she'd be safe. But I have to go after him."

Irina nodded. "Right now, you have to rest. Your room's prepared."

Sydney nodded. "I'm leaving first thing in the morning." She started up the stairs and walked into the bedroom that she hadn't used in over a year.

She knelt in front of the bed, pulled an album from one of the boxes beneath it, and flipped it open to the first page. She touched the very first picture. Taryn. Less than one hour old. Her eyes were closed and she held her tiny, perfect hands against her face.

It had been ages since she'd looked at that picture.

_"Sydney?" _

Sydney raised her head towards the doorway.

Sark looked at her with a concerned eye. "Is everything okay?"

It hadn't been. Moments before she had hung up from yet another non-conversation with her father. A lifetime before that she had finally seen a picture of a child she had never held.

Her baby had a face.

_Sydney looked back down at the picture on the page. A face like Taryn's. _

And she'd felt her world shifting around her. She had a new life, a determination to move on, a need to move forward, not back. And she had a picture in her hand that screamed at her that it just wasn't that simple. One picture couldn't change her entire decision. She'd given it up. That was for the best. And now she had to live with that.

_She closed the album and put it back in the box, she stood up and looked at Sark. "I want us to go away for awhile." _

Sark stared at her, still trying to read what was on her mind. "Where?"

"Anywhere. I just, I need some time away from here._" Away from the pictures. Away from her mother. Away from her questions. _

"How much time?"

"A couple weeks would be nice." She moved closer to him and managed a smile.

Sark debated. "I have a place in London."

Sydney nodded. "When can we leave?"

"I can begin arrangements. Perhaps late tomorrow?"

"Good. I'll start packing."

She had immediately taken a bag from the closet and started to fill it. Sark had hesitated only a moment before leaving the room to make several phone calls. She'd finished packing quickly and had to figure out what do with the rest of her evening. Several times, she'd found herself headed towards her mother's study, thinking of opening that drawer and looking at the picture again. She debating going out to the shooting range just to put some distance between herself and the study. Finally, she had just gone for a drive until late. When she returned, she went straight to bed.

Early the next day, Sark informed her everything was arranged and they could leave in the evening. She ran into her mother in the sitting room that afternoon. Their conversation had only made her uncomfortable.

_"How long are you going to be gone?" Irina questioned. _

"Two weeks," Sydney replied.

Irina watched her a moment. "Is there something bothering you?"

Sydney shrugged. "I just need a vacation, Mom."

Irina nodded, though her eyes stayed narrowed. "Have a good time, Sydney," she finally said.

Sark's two-story, stone house just outside of London was beautiful. The interior was hardwood floors, clean white trim. It was an open floor plan with the kitchen, dining room and living room flowing together. They settled in and unpacked in one of the three upstairs bedrooms. They'd cooked dinner together that night and then eaten before settling on the couch in front of the fireplace.

_"Are you going to tell me what this trip is about?" _

She had been lying with her head on his chest, and was thankful they couldn't see each others faces. She knew he likely wore a worried expression, and she couldn't hide the emotion that came to her face when she considered the answer to his question. She'd been silent before turning to face him on the couch, sitting on her knees and resting her hands on his chest.

_"Right now, this is about us." _

He had looked doubtful, until she'd kissed him. She'd been determined to distract both herself and him from the real reason she couldn't stand to stay at the compound another second.

They'd spent their time in London at museums and sightseeing, cooking their own meals and just enjoying each other's company. Sark didn't ask her again about why they were there. She knew he still wondered, but he was willing to leave it alone. She was thankful. She preferred to focus on spending time with him.

During the two weeks, she was able to avoid even thinking about what had prompted her need for a vacation. But as she packed to return to the compound, she knew she had decisions to make.

Would she talk to her mother? Tell her she'd found the picture? Ask her about the baby?

_Ask her what? _

The two-week old baby picture hardly proved anything. It didn't have to mean Irina had kept it or even knew where the baby was. Sydney realized that she really didn't know any more about the baby or what had happened to it than she had before she found the picture. She had her guesses. The thought of confronting her mother over her guesses seemed silly. It suddenly seemed best to leave it alone.

_"Are you finished packing?" Sark questioned. _

Sydney zipped her bag closed. "Yes. Though, I think we're going to have to do this again soon."

His eyes twinkled. "How soon?"

She grinned. "As soon my mother can spare the both of us again."

He smiled crookedly, and grabbed one of her bags off the bed and turned to carry it downstairs with his own.

"Sark?"

He stopped and looked at her.

"Thank you. I… I really needed this." The time to think. To return to her senses.

He walked back over to her and looked her in the eye. "I think we both did." He stole a kiss then headed down the stairs.

They were immediately back to work the next day. On separate missions to separate countries, though both with leads on Sloane. It seemed the drought of information on him was over. There were signs of his people being involved in operations everywhere. Sydney was in three different countries on three consecutive days. It was exhausting, but she'd found herself restless rather than tired when she came back to the compound.

Her normal wine and bath didn't calm her and she'd ended up working late into the night in her office, tapping away at her computer. She hadn't even realized how late it was until Sark came into her office with squinty eyes and bed hair.

_"It's rather lonely up there." _

"You're not lonely, you're just cold."

"I can't be both? Besides, I have a right to be; my room is draftier than yours."

"Then, sleep in my _room." _

"That only solves one problem."

"All right, I'm coming."

She'd gone to bed, but she hadn't slept well. Several times, she'd woken up out of breath from dreams she couldn't recall. She'd been up early that morning and back down in her office before breakfast. She'd led a team to raid a secure facility in Venice that night. But intelligence had been faulty.

_"Sydney, you've been picked up by some kind of backup surveillance. Security teams are converging on your position." _

She'd gotten out, unharmed but the raid had failed. She'd taken it hard at the time.

_"You have to let it go, Syd." _

She shook her head, leaning over her desk staring at reports. "No, I don't. He keeps winning, and we can't even get close."

Sark stood behind her chair. "We'll triple check the intel next time."

"That still may not be enough."

"It's been two weeks." Sark sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders, starting to massage them. "What do I have to do to take your mind off of this?"

She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. "I don't want my mind taken off of it!" she snapped. "I want to get him."

Sark arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure that Sloane is the only thing on your mind?"

She hadn't been sure. But she hadn't admitted it. And after being called into her mother's study around noon the next day, it was all she'd been willing to think about.

_Irina turned her computer monitor to face her daughter. _

Sydney's eyes widened, at the picture on screen. Sloane. Exiting a building. "This has been verified?"

"Yes, it is definitely him. The picture was taken in Berlin, twelve hours ago."

"What was he doing there?"

"He was at a hospital."

"Don't tell me he's ill," Sydney answered, coldly.

"No," Irina responded. "He was visiting a patient. A man in his seventies, who has been a scholar of Rambaldi for many years. He was apparently able to help Sloane decipher the manuscript he got from Egypt."

"The one we kept him from getting the cipher text key to decode," Sydney confirmed.

"Yes."

Sydney stood up. "We have to know what he told Sloane."

"That will be difficult. The man went into cardiac arrest less than an hour after Sloane visited. But if he was able to decrypt the manuscript, then the actions Sloane takes now will likely reveal to us what was on it soon enough."

Sydney had realized reluctantly her mother was correct. But the manuscript had been important enough to give them their first picture of Sloane in the open in years. Tracking leads from Berlin, they intensified the search. But even so, Sydney knew it could be months before they got another picture or glimpse of Sloane.

It could have been.

_It wasn't. _

They discovered a shipment of chemicals was transported from a lab in Beirut. Sydney had gone there, hoping to place a tracking device on the shipment and discover its destination. She'd gotten into the lab, located the shipment and placed the tracker. She'd been slipping back out of the sublevel room and there he was, heading down the hall to another room.

_Sydney stealthily kept just a corner behind them. She took her gun from her holster and kept her hand on the trigger. _

It was doomed to fail. She hadn't had a clear layout of the building or backup. Sloane had been accompanied by several guards. But none of that mattered to her at the time. One clear shot and she'd have accomplished a goal she'd had since the day Danny died.

She cautiously entered a storage room behind them and moved behind shelves to take her aim. Sloane's back turned as he carefully took items from a safe in the corner of the room then briskly turned to leave. She should have let him go. But as he neared the doorway, she'd known she wouldn't get another chance. She fired three shots before ducking for cover.

The guards, far more heavily armed, did the same. Alarms blared. The lights of the room sparked and rained onto the vial filled counters below. The room erupted into flames and choking smoke. Sloane was out the door, but the guards kept firing until the smoke and flames finally forced them from the room. After momentary panic, she braved the flames to try the doors, but finally found her only escape was out an air vent, filled with smoke.

_Fighting for air, she emerged choking and coughing on the side of the building. As she went around to the front, she saw Sloane climbing into a car a few yards away. But for a moment, he'd stopped. She'd stared directly at him and he'd stared right back at her. A siren blared in the distance. His guards had urged him into the car. The car drove away. She fell into the shadow of the building, coughing uncontrollably. _

She'd been examined by Dr. Andreas when she returned to the compound and placed on several days of bed rest. For once, she hadn't minded. Her lungs burned with every breath. Irina dropped in the first night, looking for details on what had happened.

_"How did you get trapped in the building?" _

"After placing the tracker, I was spotted by some guards, we traded fire. It ignited some chemicals, and at first the fire blocked my way out."

Her mother nodded, but her expression was unreadable.

"Sloane was there, Mom," Sydney continued. "I saw him. And he saw me." She started to cough again.

"Rest, Sydney."

She'd yielded her burning throat and gone to sleep. When she awoke next, the first thing her eyes fell upon was a vase on her night table, with a dozen pink-tipped white roses. She noticed movement by the window.

_"When did you get in?" she grinned at him. _

"Hours ago. You've been sleeping awhile."

"You could have woken me up." She sat up a little, propping herself up on her elbows.

He crawled across the bed and lay down beside her, propping a pillow behind his own head. "I don't think that would have gone over very well with your mother."

Sydney looked at the roses. "What's this?"

"I did promise you flowers. Now, seemed appropriate."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"So, how do you feel?"

She sighed. "Like I swallowed a cactus." She pulled a rose from the vase and smelled it.

"You definitely sound it," he noted with a chuckle.

"Shut-up," she laughed.

He smiled, slyly, running a fingertip up her arm. "Need anything?"

"Tea, apparently."

He rolled off the bed. "Coming up."

After the first full day of rest, she couldn't really keep herself in bed. She had tracking reports brought up to her and got a hold of her laptop. Though, since that didn't count as resting, if anyone caught her, they'd confiscate whatever paperwork she'd gotten the guards to bring to her.

And so she'd find herself alone in her room, either looking out the window or staring at the pictures atop her dresser and side table. Her eyes would lazily start to slide closed and a different picture would come to mind.

Mainly, the baby picture from her mother's desk. Seeing the back of the child's head live and in person didn't seem to haunt her nearly as much as the picture she'd held in her hand. Perhaps it was the face. Or perhaps it was how much she couldn't tell from the picture of a small, fragile baby. And why hadn't she noticed how small it was when she'd looked at it at birth?

_She hadn't ever truly looked at it. _

But when she looked at the pictures of Taryn, the difference in size was suddenly noticeable. And the words Dr. Andreas had spoken to her, that she remembered only through a foggy memory her own pain, stung her ears.

_"This baby is underweight." _

The next time she'd opened her laptop she'd searched on the complications that could arise from a baby being underweight. Her baby had only been borderline underweight so perhaps Sydney didn't truly have to worry about it, but she still found herself wondering. She had been so unconcerned at the time the doctor told her. And so angry at the doctor for her accusatory tone. Angry at the doctor for _caring. _Angry at the doctor for _blaming her. _

Sydney swallowed. The doctor had probably been right to blame her. She'd hardly been taking care of herself during her pregnancy. Often the bare minimum of what she could get away with under her mother's watchful care. And now perhaps this baby, wherever it was, was paying for that.

Her dreams were horrible that night. She'd awakened sweaty and trembling. She'd grabbed the phone and dialed her father for the first time in weeks.

_"Jack Bristow." _

She knew he could hear her heavy, uncontrolled breathing on the opposite end.

And he spoke soothingly to her, until she finally calmed.

She'd nearly repeated the process the next night, when again all she'd had were nightmares. Ones that explored the possibility that her baby wasn't sick somewhere, but dead somewhere. It terrified her that she had dreams similar to those when Taryn was a baby. Ones where the pregnancy had never made it to term. Or that she or the baby died during delivery.

She thought getting off bed rest would solve the problem but it hadn't. And she found herself dreading going to sleep. She was certain it unsettled Sark to have her tear from a dead sleep right into a sitting position, hyperventilating or crying too hard to speak. She burrowed into his arms. He hadn't asked her about it. While she hadn't had nightmares in awhile, it wasn't a completely new thing for him to witness. He'd probably assumed they were about the incident with Sloane, and she hadn't given him any reason to think otherwise.

Sydney was eager to return to work, but the doctor had advised her mother not to give her anything that could cause too much stress for her lungs. Sydney reluctantly had to accept surveillance missions two and three days apart. It hardly seemed like enough to keep her busy. And so she spent much of her time at home in the gym. She did workouts in the evening hoping to exhaust herself enough that she'd go into a dead, dreamless sleep at night. It worked at first.

She liked the sound of her fists pounding into the bag. The rhythm of her heart pounding in the chest. The focus it required. The way she could block out everything else.

She could lose herself in the exercise, unable to stop even when she felt the pain of her knuckles bursting open and the blood running between her fingers. Finally, she would sink to the floor, dizzy and out of breath. She'd take a shower and crawl into bed.

But she was thankful three weeks later that there was finally another solid report on Sloane's movements. She took a team and went to an installation in Crete. She met their contact the second they arrived.

_"Have you already secured the data storage?" _

The contact shook her head. "We were unsuccessful. There's a failsafe in place. That building is wired. Any attempts to access information storage could result in complete destruction. A raid would be impossible."

Sydney sighed and turned to her team. "But we still have our blueprints of the building?"

Lucas nodded. "Of course, but we don't have enough info about the security to--"

"Call them up," she ordered, cutting him off. Sydney turned back to the contact. "Data storage, show me where it is."

Lucas turned the laptop towards to the woman and she located the data storage room. Sydney pulled a headset from the van. "Good." She turned to Lucas. "I'm going in."

The contact's eyes widened. "It's too dangerous."

"You'll talk me through the building. I'll get in and get the data files myself."

Lucas stepped forward. "I'll go with you."

Sydney shook her head. "I'm not risking anybody else. I'm safer on my own in there. "

She'd gained access to the building through an empty drainage tunnel in the back and come up into the building through a manhole. It was eerily quiet and empty. She followed careful instructions on the best route to the data storage room, but three times had to turn back and find an alternate route when she discovered charges wired to the doors at various access points. But finally, at the fourth door, she simply went to her belt, ordered her tech onto the phone and described the charge.

_"What wire do I cut?" _

The tech was hesitant to respond but finally told her it was safe to cut a yellow wire and then a blue one.

She was through the door, down a corridor and finally into the data storage room. Her headset was overcome by static. She loaded the valuable files onto two discs and turned to leave. The second she was out of the room, the tech's voice cut in.

_"Get out of there! Now!" _

There was a floor shaking rumble somewhere deep in the building. She ran as quickly as possible down the corridor, headed for her exit. More rumbles, and she picked up the pace. But suddenly the explosions weren't so distant and heat and fire chased her towards the exit of the building. The door at the bottom of the stairs a hallway away was too far and she knew it. She grabbed a chair and broke a window at the end of the hall, throwing herself out into the dirt a story below her.

Her ankle screamed in a pain she ignored to get up and run from the building before it erupted into flames and flying debris. She felt the heat on her back as the force of the final blast threw her into the dirt once again. Her ears rung and she felt the heat against her back start to grow and she rolled, smothering the flames that had caught her hair and clothes into the ground.

Her injuries had included a sprained ankle, singed hair and minor burns on her back, arms and legs.

But the data files were in tact and invaluable. She'd hardly minded.

Her mother hadn't been quite as pleased.

_"Lucas informed me that at the time you went into that building, you'd already been informed it was wired to explode." _

"I wasn't aware Lucas was still supposed to be babysitting me," Sydney responded.

"He was concerned and quite certain your injuries could have been prevented."

"Lucas doesn't know what he's talking about. We would have lost all this information if I hadn't gone in there," Sydney responded. "And my injuries are hardly life threatening."

"Sydney, you took an unnecessary risk."

"I made a judgment call. I knew I could get in and out of that building alive and I did. If I was anyone else, you'd be glad I got that information. You're only upset now because I'm your daughter."

Irina's eyes darkened. "Whether my daughter or my employee, you are a liability if you continue to make decisions that carelessly endanger your life. If I can't trust you to act in yours and my best interests on field assignments, you will not be going on them."

Her mother's tone was sharp and she'd left the room abruptly. Sydney didn't rule out that Irina's concern wasn't somewhat motherly. But she hated to worry her mother and hated the thought that her actions could be reported.

_She shoved Lucas into the wall of building harshly. _

"Hey!" He pushed her away from him.

But she leaped towards him again, a fist connecting with his jaw and pounded him fiercely, blocking all his attempts to fight back. She kneed him in the stomach, and as he doubled over she kicked his legs out from underneath him. She kicked him in the chest several times. He looked up at her, angrily.

She held him to the ground with her boot on his throat.

He gasped for air.

"Let me be clear. You do not question my actions and you do not report them to my mother. Is that understood?"

He was wide-eyed but silent.

She bent over him with angry eyes. "Is that understood?"

He began to nod earnestly. "Yes. Yes!"

"Good." She gave him a parting kick.

He winced and curled up, trying to shield himself from any further blows.

She left him lying in the shadows between the officers' quarters. She'd gone up to her room and crawled into bed. Sark looked at her curiously.

_"Where were you?" _

She didn't say a word, only kissed him, harshly, barely letting him breathe. He seemed fascinated by her near aggressive behavior and began to respond with the same intensity.

She'd thought since she wasn't having constant thoughts of suicide, she was all right. That there wasn't anything for anyone to be worried about. She worked hard. She kept busy.

_But she didn't keep control. _

Durand, an informant, was compromised in Marseille a month later. She had been able to find out where Durand was being held, but when she'd gotten to the location, she'd found he was well guarded and she was alone. She considered calling for backup, but the minutes ticked by and she knew every minute he was in there, the likelihood of him being executed increased.

Four guards in one rather small room. There hadn't been much of a chance for distraction. The only way she was going to get Durand out of there was if she caught them by surprise and fought her way out. She had waited until they were relaxed into interrogating Durand. Two had left their weapons on a table on the opposite side of the room and the other two had theirs holstered.

She'd entered the room, weapon ready. She didn't dare announce her presence or toss out futile orders for them to remain still. She fired immediately at the men who were armed even as the other two rushed at her. Two bullets incapacitated one man, several more embedded in the wall and a minor wound to the other man who'd been armed.

Her gun was kicked from her hand. But she immediately began furious kicks to the men who rushed at her. She slammed a fist into one's jaw, a heel into another's chest and her other hand broke a nose of the man she'd already shot once. It had been a blur of arms, legs, heads, blood. A cacophony of bones breaking, grunts and gasps. Some hers. Some theirs. Two of them she took down and before they'd recovered she managed to retrieve her own gun, emptying it into the last man.

She'd gotten Durand out of there, which seemed to be worth the aching muscles and bones that a long warm bath after that mission had done little to ease. She'd been thankful that of the first five assignments that followed, two had been surveillance, and one had been on comms. It hurt too much to do her workouts in the gym and she'd forced herself to do meditation while sitting on her bed instead.

Several evenings the meditation had been refreshing and relaxing. But once her mind had refused to focus on anything except the two-week-old baby's face. And she'd been unsettled to realize despite the face, the baby was still an "it" in her mind.

She'd have thought she would have been able to tell if her own baby was a boy or a girl. Perhaps the face was boyish, but nearly all infants mushy faces made them look like little old men at first. Then again, it looked like Taryn. So it had to be a girl.

_Didn't it? _

Sydney had abandoned her meditation and gotten a glass of wine instead. Her mother had to know the gender of the baby, but Sydney wasn't sure how to ask. The doctor knew for that matter, but Sydney avoided her as much as possible.

Sark was one of the few people around that Sydney didn't have to contemplate questions with. She was thankful when he finished his week's assignments that had been separate from hers but staggered in such a way that she'd barely seen him.

She had been spending her evening on the couch in sitting room, pillows propped behind her as she reviewed several printed case files. A grin had formed on her face as she recognized the cadence of his walk as he came up behind her and began reading over her shoulder.

_"Welcome back," she greeted. _

He leaned over her and greeted her with a kiss.

"How was Santiago?" she questioned, as he came around to the front of the couch.

"Uneventful," he responded dryly. He glanced in the direction of the closed study. "Where's your mother?"

Sydney closed her folder and placed it on the coffee table. "She had some emergency meeting in Brussels. She left three hours ago. I don't think she'll be back for a day or two."

He lifted her legs and took their spot on the couch, letting her rest them in his thighs.

She sat up, sitting on his lap. "I made dinner. Are you hungry?"

He watched her intently, putting his arms around her. "Ravenous."

She started to laugh, but flinched involuntarily as his hand touched her side.

She hadn't had time to think of anything to say. His eyebrow arched and he lifted her shirt slightly to expose her bruised torso.

_"When did this happen?" _

"Sometime last week," she said, shrugging slightly. "I'm fine."

He frowned. "Are you?"

"We're spies, Sark. We get bruised up once in awhile. Don't worry about it. Bruised ribs heal in a couple weeks."

He ran his thumb lightly across one of her ribs. "They look more than bruised."

Her face contorted in pain, but she managed not to flinch. "I've taken some meds for them and haven't worried about it. I've had work to do."

"Sydney…you've been going on missions like this?"

"Successful missions," she emphasized. "It hasn't been a problem."

"There's swelling. You might have a fracture. You need to see a doctor."

She pulled her shirt down. "Dr. Andreas and I really don't get along."

"Any doctor. I'm sure you have enough contacts to find your own."

"Sark, I already have my mother being overprotective. I don't need it from you too." She climbed off his lap but he grabbed her arm before she could step away from the couch.

"Your mother doesn't even know about this," he stated with certainty as he stood up.

She didn't answer.

He didn't let go of her hand as he headed for the door. "We're going to see a doctor. Now."

She hadn't protested.

Three ribs were bruised as she'd suspected, and one was cracked. But there was nothing to be done but to continue pain medicine and rest. The doctor had been surprised she wasn't more bothered by the pain, but she truly hadn't been.

_It had almost felt better. _

As they'd returned to the compound, she'd turned to Sark in the car.

_"My mother is going to wonder why I'm not going on missions for the next couple of weeks." She looked at Sark. "I'm not asking you to lie to her--" _

"Good," he responded. "Because I wouldn't."

Still, she'd spent the next two weeks away from the compound. She'd bought a house in Australia. A place of her own to escape to. She'd spent the time buying furniture and getting it prepared exactly the way she wanted. But the first person she'd seen upon returning to her office was her mother.

_"How was Australia?" Irina questioned. _

Sydney kept her eyes on the tracking reports on her desk. "Fine. Beautiful."

Irina nodded. "Then, I expect that's where I'll find you the next time you feel the need to avoid me."

Sydney stiffened.

And she'd remembered being five years old and how impossible it was to ever hide anything from her mother.

_"Mom—" _

"It's been obvious for weeks. Sydney, is there something we need to discuss?"

Sydney wanted to swallow but her mouth was dry. She could ask anything. The questions were fully formed in her head. But she couldn't get them out.

"No," she responded.

Her mother's face made it more than obvious that Irina didn't believe her.

_"Mom, I have work to do." _

Irina left but Sydney had been able to do little work. She didn't want to be at odds with her mother. But she wasn't sure she was ready to hear the answers to her questions. What if her child wasn't okay? Or wasn't happy? What if it had been different than Taryn? Maybe if she'd looked at it and held it, she would have felt something and wanted to keep it. Maybe if she had agreed to her mother's help, she would have been okay raising it. Maybe she would have been better at it the second time.

_Maybe she shouldn't have given up her baby without ever trying. _

Her fists pounded mercilessly into the punching bag. She wouldn't stop until there was pain beyond a dull, throbbing. Then, she'd look at her battered hands and flex them. It didn't matter that it hurt.

_At least it was a pain that would go away. _

The sounds of her punches were the only sounds she was registering.

_"You know, you owe me a--"_

She hadn't heard him enter the gym or cross the mats. With her nerves on edge, that was enough for her to turn around and aim a kick towards his head.

_"—rematch," he finished, moving his head just in time to avoid the kick. _

She took a deep breath, watching him. "Do I?"

He looked at the bag. "You're out here almost every night, practicing. Must be getting monotonous."

She shrugged. "Gives me time to think."

"Time to think about what?"

She circled him. "Are we doing this or not?"

He nodded, taking a ready stance. "Though if I win, you have to talk to me."

She took a breath and focused on him, waiting for him to approach. They circled in silence. The room blurred around her, the only thing she could clearly see was him as she anticipated and blocked his first two kicks.

He smirked, seeming more amused with the exercise than she was.

She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for him to advance again. He aimed a cross, she blocked. He made a jab, and she ducked and immediately responded with a series of kicks, advancing. He blocked and managed a punch that made contact with her stomach.

She inhaled sharply but didn't give in to the pain, sending a series of furious punches his way, most he blocked, one that he didn't. Blood trickled from his nose. He finally stopped looking amused. Her knuckles stung but she kept punching, even when he suddenly broke stance. He opened his mouth, obviously talking but she didn't hear a word.

A sweeping kick sent her flat on her back on the mats. She kept her hands balled even as she stared up at him. He knelt beside her, looking at her as if he barely knew her. His battered knuckles resembled her own. She finally noted how much his nose was bleeding. She didn't even recall the punch that must have caused the cut above his eye.

She sat up carefully. He reached a hand towards her face and she realized he was wiping away tears. Her_ tears. _

"Sydney?"

She finally unclenched her fists. "I'm sorry."

Sark stared. "You're the one that put that guard in the infirmary a few weeks ago."

She stared at her hands, flexing them. "I didn't want to hurt you. It's not that I want to hurt anyone. I just...don't want to hurt."

He grasped her hands carefully. "What hurts, Sydney?"

Her chin quivered and she pulled her hands away. "What doesn't?" She trembled, trying to hold in her sobs.

She was silent a long time and she thought he would get up and leave. But he finally just put an arm around her and hugged her to him. She let her head rest against his chest, knowing he was waiting for her to say something, anything.

She sighed. "When was the last time you were truly scared?"

He moved his head to look at her. He couldn't have been expecting the question, but he didn't show it. He spoke calmly. "The last would have to be when I walked into a bedroom to find a woman with blood pouring from her veins."

Sydney straightened. "No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"There must have been some field assignment gone wrong that was far more terrifying than—"

"No," he interrupted. "On field assignments there are options of success and failure that I know I can determine by my own actions. I'm in control of risking my own life and I'm always mentally prepared for any eventuality. But that night when I went into your room…." He trailed off and touched his hand to her cheek. "You were dying, Sydney, and I had no control. I wasn't prepared for that."

She leaned towards him and his hand dropped to her side. She closed her eyes and brushed her lips against his.

"Sydney, wait."

Her eyes opened, a question on her face.

He tilted his head and looked her in the eye. "When was the last time you _were truly afraid?" _

Her eyes became glassy and she started to look away.

He reached a hand and turned her head to face him again. The pad of his thumb rested on her bottom lip. "What?"

"I just don't know if I remember the last time…that I wasn't." She dropped her head into his lap and he ran his fingers through her hair.

Their work against Sloane continued. They intercepted intel that he'd sent a team to recover something from a bank vault in Munich two months later. Sydney donned a disguise and arrived at the bank vault before Sloane's team arrived. She switched the computer chip in the safety deposit box. She was out of the vault in time, but not out of the bank.

Sloane's men announced their arrival with shouts and gunfire. The customers and employees were instantly hostages. A much higher profile entrance than Sydney had been expecting. But she'd let herself blend into the customers, hoping that as long as she didn't interfere, they'd get the chip and leave. It had seemed to work, at first.

She remained calm, studying the hostages, hoping none of them would cause trouble. None had seemed to be much of a threat. A couple women in their early twenties, who huddled on the floor, clutching their purses. An elderly man. A couple in their twenties who held onto each other. A woman with a little boy, a toddler who couldn't have been more than one or two years old. She held onto him, trying to keep him quiet. A skinny man with glasses, who kept wiping sweat from his brow.

Two men that Sydney recognized from the intel as Schrader and Bertrand disappeared into the vault.

Minutes ticked by endlessly before they re-emerged. But instantly Sydney noted Schrader on the phone, speaking agitatedly. Bertrand began giving directions to the guards. Sydney watched carefully, but it was only moments before Bertrand was looking directly at her and she was dragged forward. He ripped the curly black wig from her head as the guards held her. He had her taken back into the vault. A cursory search was done of her person, before Bertrand looked her in the eye.

_He slapped her. "Where's the chip?" _

Sydney glared at him.

Bertrand shook his head. "We'll just have to take her with us."

The guards secured restraints on her and guided her towards a side door. Schrader came up behind them, but he stopped and nodded to the remaining guards.

_"No witnesses." _

Sydney's eyes widened, horrified. "No!" She elbowed one of the men in the stomach and twisted herself free from the other.

She heard an electric crackle from behind her.

The sound of gunfire mixed with screams. Then, everything went black.


	11. Fears of Orphans cont

She had awakened sitting up against a stone cold wall. The door had abruptly opened and two men with guns had entered only just past the doorway. They took aim and she'd futilely curled up, shielding her face. They fired. She'd been left lying on the floor, motionless, aching. They'd been laughing.

Her body reeled from the bruises and welts forming from rubber bullets.

But she could have been dead. Perhaps she should have been. The bullets at the bank had been real. She had no doubts about that. Thirteen people. That young couple. That old man. That little boy with such dark hair and such big eyes.

It was hazy after that. She knew she was dragged from the room several times. Drugged. Interrogated. Sometimes about the chip. And sometimes just about her mother's compounds, organizations, movements, location. She didn't even vaguely consider answering their questions. She winced at the sound of her own bones crunching more than the pain of it. Acid burned her leg. She struggled; she screamed; she blacked out.

But it was awakening strapped to a table that brought her back to reality. A nearly blinding light in her eyes. And Sloane standing over her, stroking her hair. Her skin crawled. But she'd felt drugs forcing her unconscious again before she could do anything but glare at him.

The next time she awoke, she was back in the cell. She launched herself at the door the next time it opened. She buried her fists in noses and eyes. And directed kicks at heads and chests. She took the guard's keys, gun and a cellphone. She took aim at anything that moved and made it to a truck outside. She'd wanted to search the compound for Sloane but she was forced to just make her escape. She lost her pursuers and made a call for an extraction. She was on alert waiting.

When she finally saw Sergei get out of van and come towards her, she finally felt relieved. She felt her adrenaline rush die. And then her legs gave out beneath her.

_Her eyes opened slowly, taking in her familiar bedroom. She assessed herself slowly, one of her hands was bandaged, her broken fingers immobilized. An IV was in her other arm hydrating her. It ached to move, but she turned her head slowly to scan the room._

"Hello, Sydney."

Sydney looked to see Dr. Andreas coming in the door. She started to sit up slowly, but instantly felt dizzy and was forced to lie back down.

"You've been here two days. The drugs are out of your system, but you have a concussion. Your mother will be pleased you're finally awake." The doctor looked at her eyes. "You're probably aching. You have quite a few bruises. Is there any other pain or discomfort I should know about?" 

Sydney hadn't answered her. The doctor had left and her mother had come in a few minutes later.

_"How are you feeling, Sydney?" _

It had felt so surreal to be lying in her bed with her mother by her side after the craziness of the past few days.

_Sydney stared at the ceiling. "Did you get the chip?"_

"The team retrieved it from the bank less than an hour after you disappeared."

"Did you find where I was being held?"

"I sent a team. The location was clean."

She tried to think, to remember, but everything jumbled together in her head. "How long was it? How long did they have me?"

"Three days."

Sydney swallowed and turned her head to look at her mother. "The people, at the bank...were any of them left…alive?"

Irina sighed and shook her head. "Sydney--"

But Sydney's mind skipped to another thought and she cut her mother off. "I saw Sloane. The last day they had me. He was there."

Irina's face was expressionless. "Did he say anything to you?"

Sydney returned to staring at the ceiling. "No." But she shivered at the thought of the way he'd looked at her. 

Her mother studied her intensely, obviously hoping she'd say more. But Irina finally left her saying she'd send her up some lunch.

Eating had been the last thing on Sydney's mind. She'd closed her eyes and feigned sleep when a maid had come in with the tray. She didn't want to be fussed over. She didn't want the reminder. She had enough reminders.

_"How are you feeling?"_

She wasn't facing him, but if she had been she knew his eyes were focused on the unsightly welts on her back. "Next question," she responded.

"You can _talk about it."_

She rolled over carefully and looked at him. "Well, as long as I have your permission," she responded dryly.

He stared at her without saying a word.

She sighed. "I know I can talk about it. I just, I really don't need to. I've been tortured before."

"Not recently." 

It was true. It had been five years. But she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. She barely looked at her own scars and bruises. Her mind was otherwise preoccupied. She hadn't had an appetite for days. As soon as she could get out of bed without being dizzy, she was down in her office combing through the police reports from the bank.

She hadn't even looked at the reports, but gone straight to the large stack of photos at the end. It was one grim picture after another. Bloodied bodies. Paled faces. Some with eyes wide open. Dead eyes. She braced herself for the picture she knew had to be coming.

_The boy. _

She'd stopped when she reached the picture. She hadn't wanted to stop on that photograph but she couldn't take her eyes off of it. She'd blocked out everything else in the room as tears had slowly filled her eyes.

_"Sydney?"_

She stood up so quickly she overturned her chair. 

It truly shouldn't have been that shocking that her mother had stepped into her office. As she'd sighed and picked it back up, her mother approached the desk. She could have tried to close the folder and come up with some distraction or excuse. But she didn't move.

Her mother's eyes scanned the photographs on the desk and looked at her with questioning eyes.

_Sydney took a deep breath. "It's not right." She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. "The people, in that bank. They killed them. All of them. And they spared _me." _She looked away from her mother. "Just because they thought they could get some information out of me. And I can't help but think, of all the people in that bank, I probably deserved to die more than anyone."_

Irina was silent and Sydney slowly raised her eyes to meet her mother's. Irina's expression was almost cold. "You can grieve the loss of life, Sydney, but don't make it about you."

Sydney lowered her eyes again, without responding.

Irina sighed and closed the folder. "What happened in that bank wasn't about justice, Sydney. And if it were, what justice would there have been in letting the one person in that bank who is out to stop people, like the men who ordered that massacre, die?" 

She knew her mother was right. And if guilt for innocent victims had been the only thing on her mind perhaps it would have been easier to try and move past. But when her mother left the office, she dug through the victim's profiles until she found the profile of the boy. She glanced at his profile long enough to see that his name was Fredrick, but she focused on the photograph of him. He was grinning, widely. His brown eyes were smiling. His dark hair well combed for the professional posed photo. He looked like such a sweet, happy child. And when she looked at him, looked at his dark hair, deep inside she ached.

She _hadn't_ slept peacefully for several nights. Once, she'd awakened hyperventilating, her skin crawling, seeing red dripping from before her eyes before she blinked it away. She recoiled when Sark tried to embrace her. He watched her carefully.

_"Talk to me, Sydney." _

It had taken her awhile to even be able to catch her breath long enough to answer him.

_"I'm okay." _

She told him. She told herself.

_He shot her an icy look. "No, you're not."_

"Just, go back to sleep." 

She'd climbed out of bed and headed downstairs. It was nearing 4am and she went for a run. Her run had ended abruptly as she'd come upon a familiar tree.

_She inhaled sharply, almost unable to get a breath back out. She started slowing to a jog. She needed to walk and, cool down. But she leaned against a tree, almost unable to breathe. She gasped as a pain attacked her abdomen. She sank to the ground, her hands holding her side. _

Sydney had walked over to the tree and placed a hand on it. The sky opened and she was pelted with rain.

_The pains were too sharp for her to stand up. She closed her eyes, trying to get the energy to shout for help. But she was still out of breath from her run. She sat there, just trying to get her breathing under control. _

What had she been thinking?

She had taken a seat at the damp base of the tree. She blinked hard.

For so much of her pregnancy she really _hadn't_ been thinking. Not about herself. And certainly not about the baby. She grimly wondered if that had been true just after the delivery. When she'd refused to look at the baby. To hold it. To name it.

_She went back into the house and slipped into her mother's study. She pulled open the bottom drawer and froze. She flipped through the papers in case it had slipped beneath them. She opened another drawer wondering if she'd somehow chosen the wrong one. If she'd forgotten. If she was remembering wrong. But a search of all the desk drawers resulted in nothing._

The picture was gone. 

She'd numbly arranged her mother's desk back to order and exited the study. Her clothes were still soggy from the rain. She hadn't bothered to grab a jacket as she'd headed across the grounds and entered the gym. Her long, wet hair slapped her face with every kick she directed at the punching bag. Her cheeks were irritated and red when she finally wandered back outside into the rain, breathing heavily. Even when her breathing calmed, she was shivering badly from the cold. But she didn't go back inside.

_Nothing she wanted was inside. _

Maybe she cried. She still didn't know if her vision was obscured by rain or tears.

Guards found her when it got dark. She was set in front of the lit fireplace in the library. Maids rung the rain water out her hair and gave her blanket. She stared at her hands, her pruned fingers. She heard her teeth rattling. Her lips were numb.

She blankly recalled voices speaking over her, about her. Her mother. Sark. She'd laid down on the couch and closed her eyes. She hadn't slept.

Sleep came in vague snatches for the next few days. Never more than a couple hours a night. She was fatigued and listless during the day. Reports came to her about Sloane's movements, but they couldn't grab her interest. She couldn't eat. Her stomach ached, constantly.

Three weeks passed her in a fog. Sometimes she spent the entire day in bed. The guards, her mother, Sark all looked at her with constantly worried faces. She knew what they were thinking. She could almost hear them thinking it.

_It's happening again. _

Even she couldn't reassure them that it wasn't. She felt herself sinking, but she also felt powerless to stop it.

She went into her bedroom one night and Sark was waiting for her. He held out a photo packet to her. She took it silently, sat down on the bed beside him and opened it.

A lump had risen in her throat.

_Taryn. _

She flipped through the pictures, with an almost frantic speed, not registering anything in them except the faces. But as she was halfway through a second look at each she accepted that it was all Taryn.

_Only_ Taryn.

She turned to Sark. The expression on his face was perplexed. She stuffed the pictures back in the packet and placed them back in his lap. She stood up.

_"Sydney?" _

She had stopped and turned to look at him. But she couldn't say anything before the tears filled up her eyes. Did he think Taryn was the only one she ever wondered about? Worried about the safety of? She glared at him. It had been completely illogical to be angry. He didn't know. She hadn't explained.

_She blinked back tears._

He moved towards her, but he knew better than to try to embrace her. His eyes were full of questions.

She just shook her head. "It's not always about what I left behind there." She sniffled. She gestured to the photo packet. "It's not always about her." The sobs came freely after that and she couldn't explain. 

She was falling apart.

_Again. _

She knew the lack of sleep wasn't helping. She'd left the compound for the day, for a short trip to a branch. She'd met with a contact on the way back.

_"These should help you sleep." _

A bottle of pills had been in her bag when she got back to the compound. She didn't want to worry anyone by letting them know she had them. She took them discreetly before bed. She hoped they'd see her sleeping as an improvement. And if they didn't, at least, with sleep, she could gather her thoughts.

She approached her mother in the sitting room one evening, finally ready to voice one of her questions.

_"When I was pregnant, you told me, you said that the baby was welcome here for as long as I needed. Did you mean it?"_

Irina looked at her seriously. "Yes. Of course." 

There'd been hope in her mother's eyes. Hope that Sydney would finally stop shutting her out.

_Sydney stared. "What about now? Would it be welcome now?"_

"Yes, Sydney." Irina raised an eyebrow, questioningly

Sydney swallowed. "I just…I needed to know." 

Her mother had nodded and she'd left the room.

She'd had vodka instead of wine with her bath that night. She hadn't realized how long she'd been soaking in the tub until Sark peeked in on her. 

_She climbed out of the tub and smiled at him, trying to remember the last time he had looked back at her without looking concerned._

He handed her a towel. "We need to talk."

"I'm not in the mood to talk, _" she responded, dropping the towel and kissing him._

She grinned when she pulled away for the first time. 

He definitely had ceased looking concerned.

_"As enjoyable as that was, we still need to talk."_

She rolled over and grinned at him. "Oh, really?" She leaned towards him and he moved before she could kiss him. She pouted momentarily.

"Okay, whatever this is must be very important." She propped her head on her elbow, giving him her complete attention.

His eyes fixed on her face. "Sydney, are you pregnant?"

Confusion crossed her face. "What?" She sat up. "As careful as we've been, why would you ask that?"

He sat up as well. "Something has been on your mind constantly. And I overheard you talking to your mother about whether a baby would still be welcome here."

"I was being hypothetical."

"Were you?"

She hesitated, because even she wasn't sure.

He watched her carefully. "Sydney, if you are…it's okay."

She stared at him incredulously. "What part of it would be okay_?" She shook her head and started getting dressed for bed. "I'm not pregnant, Sark." She lay back down, still reeling at the thought._

It was silent a minute before she turned to look at him again.

"You sounded almost…hopeful." She sighed. "Do you want kids?"

He started to get dressed. "I wasn't opposed to the idea."

"I'm sorry." She stared at the ceiling. "We haven't talked about it and it just never occurred to me that it could be something you might want." She looked him in the eye. "But you…you need to know, I don't want any more children. And it's something I know I'm not going to change my mind about."

"Sydney, I was all right with it either way. I'm just concerned for you. I feel you tossing and turning every time you have a nightmare. I hear you, crying in your sleep. And I know you've been using the missions, Sloane, even me, to distract yourself rather than talking about it. Whatever it is, Sydney, you need to deal with it." 

She had stared at him in silence and he'd finally just left the room.

Even a pill couldn't make her sleep that night.

She was hardly in any shape to be off on an assignment to Monte Carlo tracking Bertrand the next day but she felt like she would go insane sitting at home. She followed him to an unfinished building, but he disappeared from view after making his way up to the third floor. She made her way around plastic covered wood frames, weapon drawn.

_Bertrand came tearing through the thick plastic around a frame and charged her. She felt flat on her back on the floor, wind knocked out of her and her gun skidded across the floor several feet away._

She started to sit up and but he held her down, holding a knife to her throat. He grinned, obviously recognizing her. "Sloane will be glad we ran into each other. He misses you."

Sydney frowned, but was silent catching her breath.

He stared at her. "You're all he talks about. I don't know what his fascination with you is, but he definitely likes to keep track of what you've been up to." 

She forced a smile, threw a knee into his groin. He lost his grip on her. She twisted the knife from his grasp and flipped it back towards him and embedded it in his ribcage. He fell back, eyes wide.

Sydney stood over him. "Where's Schrader?"

He looked confused.

"You ordered the deaths of thirteen innocent people in that bank. Now, where's Schrader?"

Bertrand started to smile. "Sloane…he wants you." His eyes rolled back.

She sighed, retrieved her gun and left the building. 

It was late when she got back to the compound and she went straight to her room and climbed into bed as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Sark. She sighed as the hours ticked by and sleep didn't come. She got out of bed and went down to her office.

_She pulled out her bottle of sleeping pills. She took one with a glass of water. She took the picture of Frederick from her desk and stared at it a minute. She blinked hard and poured a handful of sleeping pills into her hand and shoved them into her mouth. She spit them back out into her hand immediately, trembling at what she'd almost done. She wandered the room with the handful of pills, debating._

The door to the office opened and Sark stood in the doorway. He gave her a hard look, before crossing the room and grabbing her hand. She opened it, guiltily. He turned her hand over letting the pills drop into the trash can beside her desk. He surveyed the items on the desk, looking at the picture of the boy.

"Is he what this is about? Are you still torturing yourself about what happened in that bank?" He tried to catch her eyes. "Are you!"

Sydney looked away, focusing on the picture. She closed her eyes a minute and swallowed. "He could have been mine," she whispered. She looked up at him. "He could have been mine," she said louder.

Sark let go of her hand. "What are you talking about?"

"He was almost two-years old. He has the same dark hair," she whimpered. "Just like the baby I never held, never named. Never did anything to protect."

Sark's expression softened. "Sydney, this boy wasn't yours."

"I know that! But I don't know where it is. It'll be two next month, and I don't even know what it looks like. Fredrick could have been my child and I would have never known." She picked up the picture and sat down in her chair at her desk. "I have a picture of a dead boy I didn't even know, but I don't have any pictures my baby. I thought giving it up, it would be safe...but I don't know if it's safe. I don't know if it's alive or happy or healthy. I just...I don't know." 

He looked at her. "You can talk to your mother. You can ask her your questions."

She shook her head, putting the picture of the boy aside. "What right do I have to know anything about it?"

"What right? Sydney, you gave birth to this child."

"I didn't even hold_ it. I didn't even look at it." Her eyes fixed on the pill bottle on her desk._

"You've only been torturing yourself by not getting the answers to your questions." He took the bottle of pills from in front of her.

She was silent.

His expression darkened with a realization. "Sydney..."

"I gave it away to protect it," she answered.

He moved to face her, but she didn't look at him. "But what do you want now? Do you want to see it?"

"I don't want to disrupt its life."

"You don't know that you would."

She raised her eyes towards him. "Sark, do you know where it is?"

He straightened. "Just talk to your mother, Sydney. Stop trying to punish yourself and ask your questions."

He left her in the office. She swallowed and stepped out. The door to her mother's study was closed, but the light was on. 

Sydney closed the photo album as there was a knock on her door. "Come in."

Nina poked her head in the door. "The girl is settled in her room. She's refused dinner. She apparently wants to just get some sleep. She's asking about you." Nina smiled and left the room.

Sydney got up from beside her bed and walked down the hallway to the guest room. She stopped in the doorway. Taryn was sitting hunched in the bed, hugging the covers around her. She looked younger and smaller, alone in the large bed.

"Hey," Sydney greeted, softly.

The girl looked up at her, but didn't say anything. Sydney was getting used to that. Taryn hadn't really had anything to say since she'd awakened on the plane.

Sydney came forward. "Comfy?"

Taryn shrugged, looking down at the bed again.

Sydney debated. "Are you sure you don't want to try and eat something?"

"I'm sure," the girl answered, coldly. Obviously annoyed that Sydney had even asked.

Sydney sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Taryn, I owe you an apology. You should feel free to talk about whatever you need to. What happened on the plane, I shouldn't have walked away." 

The girl gave her an uncertain frown. "I thought…I thought you were mad at me."

Sydney blinked. "No," she said firmly. "I was upset, but not at you. You shouldn't have had to go through _any_ of the things you've gone through. And I know it's important to hear someone tell you that you're not to blame."

Taryn pulled at her fingers uselessly.

Sydney looked her in the eye. "It's not your fault, Taryn. Even though you feel like it is, it's not."

Taryn let her fingers drop back into her lap. She nodded, still silent.

Sydney sighed. "I'll be leaving in the morning."

"To go get my Dad?"

Sydney nodded. "Yeah."

"How long have you known him anyway?"

"A long time," Sydney answered, vaguely.

"How long?" Taryn pressed.

Sydney looked at the girl in front of her and responded, thoughtfully, "More than ten years."

"So you're really good friends?" Taryn paused only a moment. "He's never mentioned you."

Sydney stared at the wall. "We…lost touch over the years."

The child gave her a thinking frown, trying to make sense of it. "But he asked you to help him find me?"

"I wanted to help," Sydney said shortly.

_She needed to help. _

The girl studied her then seemed to let it go. "I miss him."

"I know he misses you too."

Taryn hugged herself. "Do you think he's okay?"

It was a question Sydney knew she couldn't hesitate to answer. "He's okay," she told Taryn, willing it to be true.

Taryn pulled at the bedspread. "What if he's not? What if something's happened to him?" There was a fearful look in her eyes as she continued. "What if you can't find him and he never comes back?"

"That's not going to happen," Sydney responded.

"Then, where is he? What happened to him?" Taryn stared at her. "I know it must be something bad or you'd tell me."

Sydney hesitated, unsure how much she could really explain without scaring the girl.

Taryn glared at her. "I'm not a baby! I want to know what happened to my dad!" 

Sydney almost flinched. "No, you're not a baby. The same people that went after you, went after your father as well. But I told you the truth. I'm going to go find him and bring him here, just like I did for you."

The child nodded slowly, her face creased with frustration. "Would it help if I told you more about the people that were after me?" She brushed a strand of hair back from her face and secured it behind her ear.

Sydney watched her. "What do you mean?"

The girl started to shake her head then sighed. "The men at the safe house...just before they put that bag over my head, they told me I was...an anomaly. I don't know what they meant."

Sydney frowned. "Don't worry about it, Taryn. You should get some rest now. Is there anything else you need?"

The child shook her head and lay down in the bed.

Sydney reached over and turned out the light beside her bed.

The girl sat up again and grabbed her arm. "Sydney?"

"What? Should I leave the light on?"

"No, just..." Taryn frowned at herself and released Sydney's arm. She looked down. "I don't want to be alone."

Sydney sat down on the edge of the bed and embraced her daughter. "You aren't alone, Taryn," she whispered in her ear. "I'm right here."

Taryn hugged her back tightly.

When she let go, Sydney smiled at her. "I can stay until you go to sleep, okay?"

Taryn nodded. She lay back down in the bed and curled onto her side. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Sydney looked down at the little girl. Her little girl. It was long after Taryn's breathing was slow that. Sydney reluctantly got up and left the room, closing the door behind her. She headed back down the stairs and paused at her mother's study. She could see the light was on under the door.

_She hesitantly approached the door, knocked lightly and pushed it open._

Irina glanced up from her computer. She saw the tears in her daughter's eyes. "Sydney, what's the matter?" She beckoned her inside.

Sydney swallowed and sat down across from her mother. There wasn't any way to say it except to just say it. "Mom, I want to know about my baby." 

Irina hadn't even looked surprised.

_"What would you like to know?"_

Sydney hesitated, taking in a shuddering deep breath. She couldn't even look her mother in the eye. "It's…it's okay, right?"

Irina smiled. "She's fine."

"She?" Sydney whispered.

Irina nodded. "You had another girl."

Sydney smiled slightly. "What's...what's her name?"

"Analise Jacqueline Bristow."

"Bristow? You_ named her," Sydney realized._

"Yes."

Sydney took a shaky, deep breath. "You kept her, didn't you?"

Irina blinked once, slowly. "Yes. I did."

Sydney stood up, but kept her hands on the chair, almost needing the support as she took it all in. "Her hair…is it…still dark?"

"Nearly raven black," Irina confirmed.

Sydney swallowed, tears filling her eyes but a small smile starting to form on her face. "Can I…can I see her?"

Irina's eyes glistened and she blinked once before responding, "I've been waiting for you to ask." 


	12. Mother of Orphans

DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.  
SUMMARY: _Carrying the weight of three generations..._

_i11th/i_ in the i_Cry of Orphans/i_ series  
RATED PG-13  
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?  
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic  
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.

**MOTHER OF ORPHANS**

By Aliasscape  
Copyright 2005

She could hear music.

Praeludium in C by Bach.

She continued around the corridor and paused in the doorway of the conservatory. The sun was setting in the windows and she had to squint slightly to see the child sitting at the white, baby grand piano, her fingers dancing across the keys.

Irina watched her a moment, then motioned to the passing maid. "Anything today?" she asked quietly.

The maid glanced at the child, frowned and shook her head.

Irina waved her hand, dismissing the maid and quietly entered the conservatory. She crossed the room soundlessly and couldn't help but smile. It was likely the most at peace the child had been since she arrived.

Irina had kept a close eye on her. Taryn had been quiet, but polite. She hadn't shown much interest in doing anything. She had taken to exploring the unrestricted parts of the compound but had shown no interest in exploring the grounds. Her appetite was nonexistent, and Irina was certain she heard the girl awaken several times throughout the night. She knew the child was far from comfortable in the unfamiliar place, surrounded by people she didn't know. It wasn't the ideal situation for Taryn to be trying to make her recovery, but Irina did her best to try and make the girl feel as safe as possible.

But she had no delusions that this was anything but a temporary opportunity to finally get a close look at her eldest granddaughter. She doubted it would be more than a week before Taryn would be returned to her life in LA, oblivious that she had ever met her grandmother.

Still, Irina had tried to be visible and available in case Taryn had any questions or needed to talk. But she couldn't help but study the child whenever she had the chance. Without obvious staring, she still took note. The eyes. The nose. The hair. All Sydney's.

Irina moved to stand just beside the piano. Even the hands she now held with fingers curved over the keys of the piano. They were Sydney's hands.

Taryn stopped playing abruptly, seeming startled. She turned and glanced up.

"How long have you been playing?" Irina questioned, quietly.

"Two years," Taryn answered, staring at the keys.

"You've taken lessons."

Taryn nodded. "At my Grandpa Jack's house."

Irina smiled. "Are you close with your grandfather?"

Taryn nodded again. "I go to his house after school sometimes. I spend the night when my dad goes out of town for work."

"You must miss your father a great deal when he's away."

Taryn shrugged. "I'm used to it. And it's not as much as it used to be. I like spending time with my grandpa. I have a room at his house, so it's almost like being at home. Sometimes, better."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "What do you two like to talk about?"

Taryn lightly stroked the piano keys, not looking at her. "Everything. My lessons, my soccer games, school. And he tells me stories."

"Stories?"

"About my mom. He's the only one that does. My mom left when I was a baby, and my dad doesn't like to talk about her. He hates it when I ask." She let her hands slide from the keys and rested them in her lap. "He didn't want me to play piano, because she did." Taryn turned around on the piano bench. "He was really mad Grandpa let me have the lessons."

Irina gave her a searching stare. "What's your father like when he's angry?"

The girl slid off the piano bench and walked over to the bookshelf against the wall. She began browsing the music books. "He yells a lot."

Irina turned to face the bookshelf, watching the girl. "At you?"

Taryn pulled out a book and started to flip through it. "Yeah." She sat down in the white Queen Anne's chair beside the bookshelf.

Irina moved to the identical chair on the opposite side of the bookshelf. "How does that make you feel?"

Taryn looked up for the first time, her face expressionless. "Like running away." Then, her face had tightened and she'd quickly looked down again.

But Irina continued to watch the little girl. The lost look in her eyes was so familiar.

And it was wrong that the eyes of a ten-year old could hold that much pain.

"_How is she?"_

"_She seems…despondent."_

As Sark had taken the blindfold off Sydney, Irina had been able to see that for herself. Tears had welled up in daughter's eyes, and she forced out only one word.

"_Mom."_

Irina had wanted to close the space between them and embrace her immediately, but she had remained two feet away, looking at her expectantly. She hadn't seen her daughter in almost five years. Why had she suddenly sought her out?

"_I didn't know where else to go. I didn't have anyone else to go to…" She looked down and clasped her hands together trying to hide how shaky she was. "I left Vaughn. I left… everything. I couldn't stay there anymore. I couldn't-I couldn't be her mother." Her last word disappeared into a whisper._

Of all the reasons Irina had expected her daughter to give, that was one she hadn't expected.

_And the one that pained her the most._

Despite the lack of contact she'd had with Sydney, she'd been well aware of her daughter's marriage to Vaughn. She'd been expecting it. And she was relieved that her daughter had been able to finally get out of the spy life.

_It was well past time._

But tears sprang to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Sydney, who sobbed into her shoulder. The pain of having abandoned a child was something she had never wanted her daughter to feel. When she'd finally stepped back, she'd seen the lost look in Sydney's eyes. And pain. The pain of failure.

Irina had felt a sense of responsibility. i_She/i_ was the one who'd failed. Who'd left her daughter without giving her the mothering she'd needed to have the confidence to be a mother herself.

She could have held onto Sydney forever. She wanted to take back the thirty years of deceptions and lies and betrayals and insecurities.

_If only holding her could have been enough to take back thirty years of pain._

She known then there was no way she could turn her daughter away.

"_Sydney, you can stay here as long as you like."_

She'd said the words without a second thought to what anyone else was going to think.

"_If she weren't my daughter, I doubt she'd even be here to ask me for help. But she is. And she's exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I won't turn her away."_

"_Because she needs your help or because you need for her to give you another chance?"_

She'd all but reprimanded Sark for his impertinence. Not because he was wrong.

_He wasn't wrong._

She couldn't spend every moment watching Sydney, but it would have been foolish not to have _someone_ keeping an eye on her. She had still checked in on her daily. She'd truly wanted to know if there was anything more Sydney had needed to be comfortable, but more than anything, she couldn't help but take advantage of for once having the option to see her daughter every day. She would study her and tried to make sure she was available if Sydney had any concerns or questions. But she wasn't going to interrogate her.

She could tell, from the faraway look in Sydney's eyes and the way she could barely eat a meal, her daughter was in a fragile state. She didn't want to push and risk her withdrawing even more.

_"Did you ever...wish I had never been born?"_

_Irina moved to sit right beside her daughter on the bed. She gave her a searching stare, shocked that Sydney could even ask the question._

_"Sydney...no. Never."_

_Sydney started to shake her head, her chin quivering. "But in Taipei, you said--"_

_"I said those things for the same reason I shot you. To continue my charade of loyalty to Cuvee. But I never meant a word. I love you, Sydney. I have since the day you were born."_

Sydney had erupted into tears. Irina had reached for her, wanting to hold her and comfort her, but Sydney wouldn't let her. Perhaps Sydney thought she didn't deserve it somehow.

And maybe they just weren't _there_ yet.

Sydney came out of room more often, but Irina could tell she was just going through the motions of living at the compound. She'd join Sydney in the library or the courtyard. Sometimes she would only sit with her. Sometimes she would talk to her. But it seemed to make no difference. Her daughter's thoughts were someplace faraway.

_And she couldn't reach her._

She could only hope that Sydney would choose to talk to her when she was ready.

Sark suspected that Sydney had ulterior motives. Irina didn't, but she knew her own judgment could be faulty and allowed him to conduct whatever investigations he needed to prove it to himself.

"_The CIA is on a search for her. They don't seem to have any idea where to look. They're looking everywhere. She claims she didn't tell anyone where she was going but—"_

_Irina scanned the tracking reports. "And this seems to confirm that."_

"_It could be all part of very elaborate ruse."_

_She smiled. "You give the CIA too much credit."_

_He frowned._

"_You searched the belongings she packed to bring here. You've watched her every day. You've searched her room, her computer. Have you found anything that suggests she has been deceiving us?"_

"_No," he admitted. "But then why won't she tell us why she's here?"_

_Irina sighed and got up from the desk in her study. She looked out the window and watched Sydney, sitting on the bench in the courtyard. "Maybe she doesn't know why she's here."_

And maybe she needed to be some place where she felt safe.

Irina realized maybe she should have tried harder. Pushed her to explain. Pushed her to feel something. Answered more questions she never asked. Told her everyday how much she loved her.

And watched her more closely.

"_Jessa, get Irina now! And call Dr. Andreas. Tell her to come immediately!"_

She'd heard Sark's shout and been headed towards the stairwell before Jessa had come to her.

The world had frozen over. Time slowed to a halt. She had made her way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Somehow she'd known what she would see and yet she told herself the whole walk there that everything would be fine.

Time resumed. She moved towards the bed. And the sights in the room slammed into her.

_Red towels. Red puddles. Red hands. Red wrists._

_Red! Red! Red! Red! _

Her legs felt weak. _Red.Red.Red.Red._ Her stomach turned over. _Redredredred._ She wanted to scream. _Redredredred. _ Her eyes filled with tears. _Redredredred._

Time sped up.

_Sark was moving frantically around Sydney. Her daughter. Her baby. He was trying to wrap her arms with the towels. He looked up at her with regret in his eyes. And she moved forward to help him, taking an arm and wrapping it herself, trying not to look at the deep wounds._

_She knew she should try to assess the damage but she couldn't. She raised Sydney's hands above her head. Knowing that what was she should do. Unable to remember why._

_Sydney's eyes were fluttering. She was losing consciousness._

_She was losing her. "Sydney!" _

_Sydney's eyes opened again momentarily then started to close again._

_"SYDNEY!"_

Maybe she called her name once more. Maybe she called it a thousand times.

_But her eyes didn't open again._

In her head, Irina told her daughter she couldn't die. That as her mother she forbid it. And then she had apologized a thousand times, for not being the mother she should have been. And she had told her she loved her a thousand more, _willing_ that she know that, lest she never have the chance to tell her ever again.

_Redredredredred._

Her tears joined the puddle on the floor.

"_Irina, you can let go now."_

_Dr. Andreas and her assistants moved Sydney to the bed to begin attending to her._

"_It'd be best if you wait outside," the doctor said, seriously._

_Irina stared past the doctor. Her eyes still fixed on Sydney. How had she let this happen?_

"_She's my daughter," Irina whispered, shakily._

"_And I'm going to take good care of her."_

Irina swallowed as she let Sark guide her from the room. That was what she was supposed to have done. Taken care of her. Kept her safe. Kept her from being hurt. Kept her from hurting herself. What had happened? What had driven her to this?

She sank into the chair in her bedroom, dizzy. Her questions spun around in her head. A million questions. And just one.

"_Why?"_

She looked at Sark, searchingly. He'd spent every moment watching her. He'd searched her belongings. Did he know anything she didn't? Had he seen something she missed? His eyes lowered and she knew he didn't have any answers.

She dropped her own eyes, suddenly catching sight of her hands.

_Redredredred._

It was almost fitting.

The room blurred out of focus. She didn't know how long she sat there, but when she returned to her senses, Sark was taking care of a basin of water and her hands were clean. She thanked him and he left. She finally got the strength to get out of the chair, take a shower and change into clean clothes as well.

She had gone down to the sitting room, where she had a clear view of Sydney's bedroom door, to await news from the doctor. She reviewed a folder of CIA tracking reports, looking to see if the pattern of their search revealed they had any idea how unstable Sydney was.

Sark had joined her by the time Dr. Andreas did come out of the room. Irina felt herself stiffen in her chair. The doctor looked weary.

"_She's all right. We've stitched up her cuts and bandaged over them. Her heart rate and blood pressure are coming back up. I'd like to leave one my assistants here tonight to keep an eye on her. And I'll come back to check her progress in the morning. She did lose a lot of blood. She's going to be pretty weak for awhile. She needs to remain supervised at all times. She's resting comfortably now, but when she wakes up she might try to tear out her stitches." The doctor paused and turned to Irina. "I need to talk to you, alone. Just for a minute."_

Irina had led the way into her study and closed the door behind them.

"_How long has your daughter been staying here?"_

_Irina sat down at her desk. "A little over three weeks."_

_The doctor nodded. "Did she happen to make any special announcements when she arrived?"_

_Irina raised an eyebrow. "Rosalind, what is it?"_

"_Your daughter's pregnant, Irina." _

_She stared at the doctor. "You're certain?"_

"_We've run the blood test twice. I've done my best to treat her without anything that could have harmful effects on the baby. But when I come back in the morning, I'll definitely need to run more tests." The doctor sighed. "I don't know if she knows or not, but if she does and she did this anyway, then she's obviously not in any condition to make any decisions about this pregnancy. So, I thought you should know." _

"_Is she awake?"_

"_No, not yet. She's going to be out of it for awhile. Which is probably for the best. She at least won't be able to fight being treated."_

They had gone up to see Sydney after that. Irina took a deep breath when she entered the darkened bedroom. She sat down in a chair right beside the bed. Sydney seemed to be resting peacefully. But her face was noticeably pale. She didn't look like herself.

Irina lifted her daughter's arms carefully to examine the bandages. The beeping sound of the machine monitoring Sydney's heart rate was too loud. She wanted to hold her, but knew she shouldn't move her and settled for just stroking her hair. She wanted Sydney to know that she wasn't alone.

And she wanted answers.

Irina didn't move from the spot for hours, days. Meals and reports were brought to her. Sydney was in and out of consciousness and maybe it had truly made little difference to her, but Irina didn't want Sydney to wake up and not see her there.

_And she didn't want to not be there if anything happened. _

It was like having a newborn in the house. She needed to watch her sleep if only to know she was breathing. She coaxed her to eat. And she contemplated what had really brought Sydney to her.

She had studied the photographs Sydney had displayed on her dresser. Her daughter's life in pictures. Her friends. Her wedding. And a beautiful baby girl. A grandchild Irina realized she didn't even know the name of. A seemingly wonderful and perfect life, her daughter had abandoned and—evident by the cuts in her arms—didn't seem to think she could ever return to.

Several times, Irina had been tempted to pick up the phone and call Jack. But somehow she knew he wouldn't have any answers. Sydney came to _her_. Jack and Sydney had their differences, but he was still her father. If she could have talked to him about it, she would have. And he would have done everything in his power to help her.

After three days, Sydney was finally well enough to sit up and Irina had known that it was time to ask questions.

_Irina moved to her chair beside the bed and looked down at Sydney's bandages. "Sydney, when you did this, did you know?"_

_Sydney gave Irina a perplexed look. "Know?"_

"_That you were pregnant?"_

The look on her daughter's face mutated from confusion to disbelief to horror. Irina was relieved to realize that Sydney definitely hadn't known. Her suicide attempt at least hadn't been about that. But her relief was short-lived. Sydney had broken down into sobs and even tried to pull out her IV. But even when she calmed, her feelings about it were difficult to hear. It was quickly apparently that Sydney wanted nothing more to the make the make the pregnancy stop and the baby disappear.

"_I can't be its mother. I can't _be_ a mother."_

Irina wasn't going to _let_ that be true.

"_I've gone over everything with your daughter and how she can best manage her health and diet to have a successful pregnant. She doesn't seem interested." Rosalind held out a bottle of vitamins._

_Irina took it. "I'll see that she takes them."_

She lumped Sydney's lack of concern for the baby into Sydney's lack of concern for herself and decided to take over caring for both. She made sure the doctor still did Sydney's regular exams and that once Sydney was up around that she was still always supervised. And she kept hoping that Sydney, _her_ Sydney would somehow return to her, if only long enough to explain what had happened.

She checked in on her sleeping often, even though it was difficult watching her toss and turn in her sleep, her face contorting as though she was either in fear or in pain. But it was a night that she slept walk and talked in her sleep that was the most revealing.

Irina had guided her back to bed and realized that despite her daughter's distressed state it may be the only opportunity to get some answers. The dreams that had Sydney so terrified had to be related to the reason she had left home.

Irina had to fight her own horror as she'd carefully questioned Sydney, who had seemed to be in a haze as she had recounted nearly smothering her own baby. Sydney had cried herself back to sleep. And Irina had to fight the urge to do the same. Even though Sydney hadn't killed her own child, she was going to live with the memory of almost doing so forever.

_And she was going to carry the pain forever._

As Irina had covered Sydney with a blanket, she'd gone back to the pictures on the dresser. The baby. Taryn was her granddaughter. A granddaughter she had never met. A granddaughter she would perhaps _never_ meet. And yet she had cursed her with the same fate as her own daughter. Taryn was motherless.

Logically, she knew there could be hundreds of factors that could have contributed to Sydney being unable to handle the pressures of motherhood. Irina remembered the sleepless nights, the times when she thought she might go insane if her baby didn't stop crying. It had been an adjustment to change her whole world to accommodate a new life. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but it still hadn't been easy. But she hadn't been there to explain any of that to Sydney. She would have liked to think she had been a good role model for the first six years of her daughter's life, but she knew it was a time period Sydney hardly remembered. What Sydney remembered was surely her thirty year absence. What Sydney remembered was being motherless. Being lost. Being alone.

Irina had looked at the picture again and realized that was now all her granddaughter would have to remember as well. And she'd wondered if there was anything she could possibly do to break the cycle.

As Sydney's pregnancy progressed, so did her turmoil. Sydney seemed to decide she wanted the baby to born, but she couldn't decide what should happen to it afterwards. Despite Sydney seeming comfortable leaving Vaughn with their first child, she didn't seem to _want_ to give him their second one. She didn't have any interest in going back to him.

Irina wondered, or perhaps hoped that Sydney just didn't truly want to give up the baby as she'd felt she had to give up Taryn no matter how much she claimed otherwise. But Irina had to consider that there was something about Vaughn, Sydney either purposely wasn't telling her or couldn't put into words. Especially when Sydney started considering adoption as an alternative to letting him raise his own child.

Sydney seemed to use exercise to work out her thoughts. She was on the trails and in the gym. Seeing her active had seemed like an improvement. Until one day, she disappeared on the trails. The guards had found her unconscious and having painful stomach spasms. The doctor had to be called.

_Rosalind stepped back from Sydney's sleeping form. "Right now, it seems she may have overexerted herself." She gestured to her assistant who rolled the equipment from the room._

"_Is she stable?" Irina questioned._

"_They're both stable for now, but I'm not happy with her blood pressure or the baby's heart rate."_

"_Is there anything to be done?" _

_The doctor stared at Sydney, silently. "I'll run some more tests." She started towards the door._

"_Rosalind," Irina said sharply. "I asked you to limit what you say to Sydney…not to me."_

_Rosalind sighed. "I can't help but wonder whether this exertion was an accident."_

_Irina's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. "You believe this was a deliberate attempt to miscarry."_

"_She's shown little to no interest or concern in the health of her baby or what she can do to promote it." The doctor sighed. "I have to be honest. I think her emotional and mental health is having a negative impact. If you can't find a way to help her lower her stress level, she's risking complications."_

Sydney had started to stir and the doctor made her exit. Sydney had made it clear she hadn't been trying to hurt the baby but she was still very upset over her inability to make a decision about what to do with it.

_Irina looked at her sincerely. "Sydney, if you just carry this baby to term, I will take care of any arrangements that must be made about it afterwards."_

Irina had meant what she said. Whether Sydney was worried about who would carry out her decision or simply making the decision, she was willing to do it. Though she hoped she wouldn't actually have to. Sydney had seemed to relax after that. She developed a healthy appetite and near normal sleep patterns. She took shorts visits away from the compound and into town.

The months began to pass and Irina took note of anything that might show Sydney starting to warm up to the idea of keeping the baby. She was certain she'd even seen motherly pride in her daughter's eyes when she felt the baby kicking. But the doctor still felt Sydney was disinterested during exams.

"_After I ran my tests, I told her I could tell her the gender. She didn't even answer me."_

"_Did your tests reveal anything?"_

"_The baby's underweight, Irina. As depressed as Sydney was when she first arrived here, she likely wasn't eating properly during a crucial time, not to mention the effect of that much blood loss. And she's already having strong contractions with almost two whole months to go. I want her on bed rest. The best thing we can do for this baby now is make sure it doesn't come early." _

"_It'll be arranged," Irina assured._

_The doctor turned to leave the office._

"_Rosalind? What is the gender of the baby?"_

_Rosalind smiled momentarily. "A girl. That I'm at least certain about."_

Irina had kept the information to herself, though looked for signs that Sydney might be interested to know. But Sydney never seemed to have any thoughts about the baby beyond its birth. She never contemplated names or brought up the subject herself. Even only a week before she was due, when Irina tried to question if Sydney had come to any decisions, the conversation only seemed to distress her.

Irina let it go. She had discreetly begun her own preparations.

"_Everything you've ordered has arrived," the guard informed her. "Where do you want it?"_

"_Building 7."_

_The guard raised an eyebrow but nodded._

Sydney went into labor almost a whole week late. Irina had held her hand almost the entire seven hours and four minutes. The doctor and her assistants cleaned the baby off, weighed and measured her and then tried to offer her to Sydney.

Sydney had looked horrified. She wouldn't hold out her arms. She wouldn't even look at her new daughter.

Irina carefully took the screaming infant from the doctor, rocking her, trying to shush her. But she still couldn't help but look at Sydney. To try once more to get Sydney to acknowledge her own child.

"_Sydney?"_

_Sydney swallowed. "You promised."_

Irina looked down at the baby who was squirming and turning her head in response to her mother's voice. And it had taken everything she had not to cross the room and force the child into Sydney's arms. Force Sydney to look at the beautiful, little person she was pushing away.

"_Do you want to choose a name?" Irina tried._

But Sydney was already fighting to maintain composure. Thrusting the crying baby into her arms when it was clearly the last thing she wanted, would only serve to distress Sydney further.

_Sydney shook her head and turned away. "Just, take it."_

And Irina had listened. She'd taken the child from the room and finally got her quiet as she headed down the stairs to another room where a nurse was waiting to do a more thorough exam. She watched the nurses with a scrutinizing eye. The doctor had joined them after only a few minutes.

"_My other assistants are finishing up with Sydney," Rosalind said matter-of-factly, moving forward to help with the exam._

Irina suddenly pictured her daughter in that room alone and empty and had gone back up to check on her. She stayed until Sydney had cried herself to sleep, then gone back downstairs. Jessa and Sark had joined the nurses and were gathered around the baby.

"_How's Sydney?" Sark inquired._

"_She's sleeping now." Irina responded. "She's exhausted."_

In so many ways.

_Irina moved and took the baby, thankful she'd calmed again. The child's hair was wispy and dark, her eyes newborn blue. She yawned and when she started to close her mouth again Irina saw dimples. _

Despite that this new little girl shared less of resemblance to Sydney than the baby in the pictures on Sydney's dresser, the dimples were a feature that reminded her of Sydney most. And from the pictures she'd seen, not even Taryn had dimples.

_Irina felt tears forming in her eyes. This was her granddaughter._

_Rosalind approached. "Almost everything looks good. But she's not breathing as well as I'd like. It'd best to get her in the incubator in the infirmary. And we'll see about getting her started eating there."_

_Irina reluctantly relinquished the child to the nurses again._

_The nurse looked from the baby to Irina. "Is there something you'd like us to call her?"  
_

_Irina smiled thoughtfully. "Analise."_

_Graced._ Because she was determined that this child be blessed with a good life.

Analise had to stay in the infirmary a week before Rosalind felt the baby was stable enough to be moved.

"_She'll still require close monitoring. I don't know what arrangements the family you've found have made--"_

_"There's no family," Irina cut in, cuddling the child close. "She won't be moved from the compound."_

_"Irina, I saw the way Sydney rejected this baby. That, coupled with the detachment I observed throughout her whole pregnancy, I have to wonder if giving this child to Sydney would be putting her in physical danger."_

_"She won't be with Sydney," Irina answered simply. "But she's not leaving this compound." Irina smiled at the little girl._

_The doctor gave her a questioning look. "Where will you keep her?"_

_"I have arranged for a nursery to be setup in building 7. The building is separated from the main grouping. For now, Sydney will remain unaware of her presence there."_

_Rosalind nodded, then looked curious. "Has Sydney asked about her...at all?"_

_Irina didn't look up. "No."_

Sydney hadn't been willing to really talk about anything. But she was eating and not spending her days in bed. She seemed to be doing her best to move on without thinking about the baby. As if one serious cry was supposed to have resolved all her emotions about giving up her own child. Irina knew that wasn't true, but Sydney had made it clear she didn't want her mother hovering over her. So Irina had asked Sark to continue monitoring Sydney.

Irina had been preoccupied with Analise. She refused to leave the care of the child simply to nannies and nurses. She spent many nights in building 7, around for the 2 a.m. feedings and days playing and interacting with the baby. She wanted to be around to see the child reaching all the most important milestones. She did business that she had previously done in her office at the nursery. And she directly a security camera feed from the building to her office when she wasn't there.

_Irina handed Analise to a nurse as she noted Sark coming into the nursery. He had a folder in hand._

_"The reports from Prague," he announced._

_Irina took the file and sat down in a rocking chair to scan it, making notes with a pen. When she glanced up, Sark was eyeing the baby curiously. Irina raised an eyebrow at him._

_"She's growing."_

_"Unfortunately, not as much as she could be." Irina handed him back the folder and took Analise back from the nurse. "How's Sydney?"_

_"She's been working out in the gym lately. She still isn't very talkative."_

The concerned look in his eyes told her she didn't have to tell him to keep an even closer eye on Sydney. It was only two weeks later that she had come into the nursery for a normal afternoon visit and found Sark already there, watching Analise sleep in her crib.

His hair was oddly wet, considering the time and that it hadn't rained that day. Irina approached quietly. She had a feeling he was watching the baby the sleep for the same reason she often did.

_Sometimes there was a need to feel something was right in the world._

It was especially calming when something had gone wrong in the day. She didn't question him, knowing he'd tell her if it was important. He didn't ever mention anything, but his visits to the nursery were more frequent after that. She hadn't expected that from him, but she didn't discourage it. She liked knowing he would drop in to visit when she had to be away on business. Analise needed the consistent attention from familiar faces. She knew that at times when she should just be playing with her granddaughter she was either preoccupied with making sure the child ate enough and was gaining enough weight.

Perhaps that was the reason she hadn't realized how much Sydney still needed her attention. She'd been in the nursery when Sark came rushing into the building.

"_Dr. Andreas is with Sydney. We had to call her…"_

"_What's happened?"_

"_There was a crash in her room. When I went in there...she was lying on the bed. She had a couple empty bottles of pills."_

Irina had risen silently and placed Analise in his arms. She left the building and returned to the main complex. She wasn't able to go into the room until the doctor had finished treatment. And when she had, there was no calm in seeing Sydney once again so lifeless and fragile.

"_She's going to be all right?" Irina questioned from her seat by the bed._

"_Not if she keeps on like this," the doctor said with a frown. "Irina, it may be time to consider alternative courses of care. It's apparently difficult to keep her monitored here. I know of several reputable facilities."_

_Irina started to shake her head._

"_She would have the best care. All the help she needs to deal with this depression."_

_Irina rubbed her daughter's hand gently. "I won't send her away. That's not what she needs."_

_Rosalind sighed. "Then, at least let me start her on an antidepressant."_

"_I will handle this."_

"_I know you want to help her, but maybe you can't. She's been here almost a year now. And I know you've been doing everything you can for her. But between her and the baby, you're exhausted, Irina."_

_She gave the doctor a cold stare and Rosalind sighed. The doctor exited the room quietly._

Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. There wasn't any excuse for any of what she'd let Sydney do to herself since she'd arrived. Irina had so empathized with her daughter's pain. There had been times, after she'd left Jack and Sydney, that she'd wanted nothing more than to die. That she'd thought it might be the only way for her to ever have peace.

If she had to have Sydney monitored every minute of the day, she'd do so. But the doctor was right about one thing, it had been a year. Though, she hadn't tried everything. She'd let Sydney alone. She'd let her wallow in her pain. But if Sydney was going to get better, she couldn't keep doing that. Sydney had to start thinking ahead to the life she could have beyond the life she'd left behind.

She had looked again at Sydney. This was to be the last time her daughter tried to commit suicide within the walls of _her_ compound. That was the first thing she made clear when Sydney was lucid again. Irina hadn't attempted to hide how angry she was.

_Or how scared she'd been._

Forcing Sydney back into low risk espionage had seemed like the best alternative to actually locking her up. Sydney had been caught off guard, but she'd done well. Irina made sure detailed reports of Sydney's behavior were given to her. She wasn't going to _miss_ anything. And if there'd been any evidence the work was causing Sydney more distress than good, she would have put a stop to it. But it hadn't. Sydney had embraced the work, especially once she knew Sloane was involved again.

Irina tried to find a proper balance to the attention she gave Sydney and the attention she gave Analise and her work. But it wasn't easy. Sydney was doing better. But Analise was struggling.

"_It's good that she's smiling and rolling over. And by your records, she's eating well, but she's still not gaining enough weight," Rosalind noted._

It was a mystery for several months before the doctor finally seemed to have a conclusion. During which Irina set up a routine for the nurses to follow of playtime, reading time of books in several languages, and time to play outside in the area nearby the building.

"_All signs are pointing to a milk allergy. We'll change her diet and see if that helps."_

It had seemed to help at first. The child finally started to gain enough weight. And because of it Irina had been able to spend more time at the main complex with Sydney. She had thought Sydney would have questioned her about the baby. Just curious to know where it was or what she'd done with it. Not immediately after but the more months that passed where Sydney hadn't even mentioned the child, she began to wonder.

Sydney's focus was clearly on Sloane. She requested to start going on assignments with Sark. She'd been attacked and defended herself. It was clear after that it was safe to let Sydney have full privileges as an agent in her employ. And it was both a joy and relief that her daughter finally seemed in touch with her emotions again.

_Sydney stood up from the bed. "Mom?"_

_Irina turned to her expectantly._

_Sydney crossed the room and embraced her. "I love you."_

She hadn't been expecting it. She couldn't help the tears as she hugged her daughter back, she couldn't help the tears. She'd arranged an office for her the next day, hoping Sydney might express a desire to stay and work with her.

Three months passed quickly where she still very concerned with Analise's health and a minimal amount of information on Rambaldi. A security guard found her in the nursery one morning and informed her Sydney was making an unauthorized call. She allowed the call to go through and listened to only the beginning.

"_Jack Bristow."_

She'd heard the entire conversation, if it could be called that; Sydney hadn't said a word. Satisfied that Sydney was only reaching out to her father, she asked that the calls be recorded but she didn't listen to them. After the first call, she thought Sydney might start wanting to call others. But each time it was only Jack that Sydney called. Never Vaughn, as if she had no desire to have any contact with him ever again.

Sydney's avoidance of Vaughn made Irina never question her decision not to send Analise to her father. It gave her more reasons to keep the child than just her desire to keep her granddaughter closeby for herself and for Sydney.

The one-year old that had finally started to form words in both English and Russian. She was still petite and her complexion was pale. Her lips were a natural dark pink, her hair wavy, dark and thick. Her eye color had stayed blue a long time. After she turned a year old, the child's eyes seemed to change to green and brown as well, depending on her environment and her mood. With her health finally stable, she was a happy child, more easygoing than Irina ever recalled Sydney being. Old enough to get upset when Irina left her or get excited when she returned.

Or when Sark had dropped in for a visit after an injury had kept him away several weeks.

"_Can I talk to you a moment?" he questioned, after greeting the child._

"_About Sydney?"_

"_Is there a reason you haven't given her an office yet? The kitchen table hardly seems an adequate place to track Sloane."_

"_I won't force it on her. She has to choose to stay here."_

"_She has," Sark responded. "I asked her if she was leaving three months ago. She said she wasn't."_

Sydney's reaction the office confirmed his words. And it had been her first hint that there was something developing between the two of them. They were often on missions together so her chances to observe them were limited. They didn't speak about it with her but it was easy to note Sydney wearing new jewelry, buying new clothes and them going out in the evenings. A night when Sydney had run off distressed and he'd brought her back calmed. She was glad he could be comforting to her, but she had to question the timing. Sydney had been lonely and in a state of questioning her identity. Irina wasn't sure it was her daughter's better judgment that made her start the relationship. But she had only taken one precaution regarding them.

_Sark entered her study. "You wanted to see me?"_

_Irina nodded and gestured for him to sit. "There will be some changes in the way your missions are assigned."_

_He arched an eyebrow. _

_She looked him in the eye. "You and Sydney will not be going on missions together unless absolutely necessary."_

_He sat back in his chair. "Is this your way of saying you disapprove?"_

"_It's my way of saying I'm concerned that your relationship will be a distraction in the field," she responded._

"_But you haven't told her this, have you?"_

"_If she has any concerns, she can talk me."_

Sydney never had shown any notice or concern of the change. Something else seemed to be on her mind. But Irina noted Sydney refused to talk about it. She began taking the opportunity to escape the compound, going on vacations. And then Sloane had reemerged.

Something about the timing of it was very wrong. Sydney was clearly caught on a security camera in one of Sloane's facilities, and barely two weeks later, after spending over eight years hidden, Sloane was suddenly caught on a camera. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Not when she knew the man to have quite the unhealthy obsession with her daughter. And now he knew that she was back in the spy business. It was time to step up security measures at all her compounds.

But Sydney's own obsession with capturing Sloane seemed to be real problem. She'd nearly gotten herself killed in a fire trying to capture him. And then nearly blown up when she entered a building wired to explode. And she'd dismissed Irina's concerns as motherly over-protectiveness.

_It wasn't being over protective when her daughter was repeatedly trying to get herself killed._

Though Sydney still seemed to draw even further away from her when she expressed her concerns. Sydney had bought a house in Australia, expressing a need to have a home of her own. Irina didn't fault her for that, but she knew Sydney wasn't talking to her.

Sydney disappeared from a mission at a bank and they had to accept she'd been taken by Sloane's men.

"_What are your leads?"_

"_She made the drop. We have the disc. But nothing beyond the intel we had going in. There was no one left alive at the bank." Sergei sighed. "They must have needed her alive. They could killed have her and left her there otherwise."_

Irina knew that. But it didn't make not knowing where her daughter was any easier. Teams were sent to investigate the smallest of leads. She had spent much of her time in building 7 with Analise, as if the child was the one in need of comfort. She'd made a decision to add some new pictures to the child's room.

It was after three days that a strange call had sent a retrieval team to Italy to find her. She'd been badly bruised, suffering from a concussion, withdrawal from drugs and various other injuries. She'd seemed both angry and guilty. And she barely talked about it. Irina had to send the guards out to drag her in from the rain one night. She'd seemed dazed as they tried to warm her up and get her dry.

"_Something has been bothering her for weeks, perhaps months. Is she talking to you?" Irina questioned him as they watched Sydney shiver on the couch in the library._

"_I've tried. She's barely sleeping, and when she does, she has nightmares. She's only told me she's afraid, but she hasn't explained of what."_

Irina had Sydney monitored carefully after that. She was hardly eating. But finally, she did seem to sleep again. But she was thankful when Sydney approached her.

"_When I was pregnant, you told me, you said that the baby was welcome here for as long as I needed. Did you mean it?"_

_Irina looked at her seriously. "Yes. Of course."_

And she'd known, without hearing another word, what was on her daughter's mind. She'd thought Sydney would ask about Analise that night. But she hadn't. Sydney had gone away on a mission the next day. And then come into her study very late the next night.

_Sydney swallowed and sat down across from her. There wasn't any way to say it except to just say it. "Mom, I want to know about my baby."_

Her questions had been quiet, and careful.

"_It's…it's okay, right?"_

Analise was hardly an _it_. She was almost two years old, with an identity and personality of her own.

_Sydney swallowed, tears filling her eyes but a small smile starting to form on her face. "Can I…can I see her?"_

_Irina's eyes glistened and she blinked once before responding, "I've been waiting for you to ask."_

For almost two years. Waiting. Hoping. Wondering.

_Sydney sniffled. "When?" she whispered._

"_Tomorrow. Afternoon."_

A part of her had wanted to take Sydney across the grounds to the building at the exact moment. But Analise was asleep. And she wanted Sydney to be able to _meet_ her daughter, not just look at her. And she wanted both of them to be prepared for such a meeting.

_Sydney sat back down, seeming surprised that her mother could get Analise there that soon. "What's she like?"_

_"She's often quiet, but not she's not shy. She's very affectionate and her verbal skills are developing well in both Russian and English. She's a good listener, takes direction well. She's very observant."_

_"Is she still...is she small?"_

_"She's petite, but not unhealthily so. It is something we've struggled with. We learned she had a milk allergy, we took her off milk products and she's been progressing well ever since."_

_Sydney nodded, processing. _

_Irina continued after a moment. "She likes to color and paint. She likes to be read to and to dance to music. She loves animals."_

_Sydney didn't say anything in response. Finally, she stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep."_

Irina had a feeling Sydney didn't sleep very well, if it at all. She saw Sydney leave the compound early that morning. Irina had spent the morning at the nursery, preparing Analise. Sydney had finally returned in the early afternoon.

Irina had found her in the sitting room.

"_Are you ready?"_

_Sydney frowned slightly. "I don't know. I don't know if I can do this. And I don't know what you expect from me." _

"_Today, I don't expect anything."_

_Sydney sighed. "Is she happy?"_

"_I could tell you, but I don't think anything I say could stop you from wondering as well as seeing for yourself. Come on, Sydney." Irina headed for the door._

"_How far do we have to go?" Sydney started towards the car._

_Irina smiled. "Not far." She headed for the trail instead of the car._

Sydney had followed, perplexed. She'd been quiet the short walk through the trees to building 7. But as they had reached the building, Irina had seen the realization in her daughter's eyes.

_This close. All the time._

It had been unseasonably warm for late October. Irina had instructed Charlotte, the nurse, let Analise play outside. Analise's play area was fenced in, with a playhouse, slide and swings. As they turned the corner of the building, she could see the little girl facing away from them, catching a ball that the nurse was tossing in her direction.

_Analise was dressed in green corderoy overalls over a long-sleeve, white turtleneck. Her dark hair was separated into two pony tails, tied with green ribbons._

_Sydney stopped just as the child came into view. Irina stopped beside her, watching her daughter. Sydney's face was almost expressionless, but she was starting to breathe more quickly._

_The ball rolled past Analise and she turned towards them. "Reena!" She grinned and scampered up to the gate. "Reena!"_

_Irina opened the gate and entered the play area, greeting her with a hug. When she stepped back, Analise looked up at Sydney with curious, green eyes._

_Sydney stared down at the child, eyes wide._

_Analise gave her a fully dimpled smile. "Mama."_

_Sydney inhaled sharply and looked at her mother, horrified._

_Irina couldn't help but smile. "She's seen pictures of you, Sydney."_

_Sydney swallowed. "You showed her pictures of me? Why would you do that?"_

_"Mama," Analise said again, proud of herself._

_"Because you're her mother. And I wanted her to know that," Irina continued before Sydney could protest, "whether you were a part of her life or not."_

_Sydney looked down at Analise again and briskly walked out of the yard. Irina watched her slow as she neared the building, and take a moment before she walked inside. _

_Analise stared after Sydney, uncertainly._

_Irina patted the child's back lightly. "It's okay."_

Irina had turned and directed the nurse to push Analise on the swing and promised the child she'd be right back. She had walked into the building slowly, turning to head right into the nursery.

The lights had been off, but sunlight still came in the window and dimly lit the room. Sydney stood at the far wall, staring at a collection of Analise's childish drawings and paintings. She quickly wiped her eyes as Irina stepped into the room. Irina kept silent as Sydney crossed to the opposite of the room where the wall was covered with numbers, letters, and colors, all at a child's height. Finally just above those were pictures of animals and people, including a picture of Sydney.

Sydney stared at it a moment before backing up and sitting down on the child-sized bed, with a pastel yellow and green comforter. Irina had gotten rid of the crib shortly after Analise had turned a year old. Sydney looked up, taking note of her mother for the first time. Her eyes were still glassy.

_Sydney spoke softly. "Why didn't you let her be adopted, or send her to Vaughn?" _

_Irina stepped further into the room. "I know what it's like to give up a child. All the time you spend hoping it was the correct decision, wondering if she's all right."_

_Sydney watched her approach a moment, then shook her head. "You thought I was going to regret giving her up?"_

_"I had no way to know whether or not you would change your mind. But I knew that I could not give up a child that I had more than ample resources to raise and care for."_

_Sydney ran her hand lightly across the bedspread. "Why didn't you tell me?"_

"_I knew that when you were ready to know about her, you would ask, just as you did last night. It had to be your decision, Sydney. I didn't want you to feel pressured or think that because I kept her here, I was going to force _you_ to raise her."_

"_But that is what you expect isn't it?" Sydney questioned seriously. "That now that I've seen her I'll want to take her back?"_

Irina had straightened, realizing her daughter had misunderstood.

_Her eyes narrowed. "You wanted to see her. I wasn't going to deny you that. But this was by no means an offer for you to take her back. You made your decision to give her up. And I made mine to raise her myself. It is a decision I take very seriously. And I have no intention of giving her up, to anyone."_

_Sydney's eyes lowered._

_Irina softened her expression. "Sydney, this is not about lack of confidence in you. I considered what would be best if you changed your mind. But I couldn't make this about you. It had to be about what's best for her."_

Analise was a child, with thoughts, feelings and emotional needs of her own. Not an object to be passed around on a whim.

_Irina moved to the window and watched Charlotte push Analise on the swing, then looked back at her daughter and continued. "It is your decision whether or not you want to be involved with her life…whether or not you want to know her. I set this up to keep you both close but separate during a time when I thought you might find her presence distressing. But I had no desire to hide her from you. I want her to know you."_

She had smiled at Sydney and then went back outside. Irina stopped the swing, tickled her granddaughter and lifted her out. Analise tugged her by the hand towards the slide. Irina had enjoyed watching Analise play but glanced at the window several times, hoping to see Sydney watching them. Hoping to see her showing some interest. But then her granddaughter had demanded her full attention.

Analise noticed her first.

_"Mama?"_

The word came out uncertainly, the girl was apparently no longer sure if it was correct after the reaction she'd gotten previously.

Irina watched Sydney cross the yard, but didn't say anything. Sydney passed them at first, continuing to the other side of the yard. She stopped and picked up the ball and turned around and approached them. She held out the ball to the child.

_"Can I play?"_

_Analise giggled. The girl nodded, taking the ball and darting several feet away to throw it._

Irina had moved to the stand out of the way and just watch them and take in how right it was to watch Sydney playing with her daughter.

_It was short-lived. _

The ball rolled away. The child ran after it, tripped over it, and fell face down into the grass. She was sitting up again immediately, obviously uninjured. Sydney started to approach her. But the girl's face puckered and she began to wail.

_Sydney froze._

Irina crossed the yard and brushed the dirt off, hugged Analise and told the child she was fine. Analise's cries reduced to sniffles immediately. Irina turned to Sydney.

_"She's all right. You can keep playing."_

_Sydney hesitated._

_Analise looked across the yard and her face her lit up. "Daddy!"_

_Sydney inhaled sharply and turned to look as the girl scampered towards the gate._

_Sark opened the gate and scooped up the child. Analise gave him a hug and a big smile. _

_Sydney looked from Sark to her mother in confusion. _

_Sark came towards them, carrying Analise._

_Sydney crossed her arms. "How long have you known that she was here?" She continued before he could speak, "Awhile, since she obviously knows you so well."_

Sydney had briskly exited the yard and headed back towards the main compound.

"_I'll go talk to her," Sark offered._

"_No. Spend some time with her," Irina responded, nodded towards Analise. She gave the girl a quick kiss and followed Sydney._

She had found Sydney in her bedroom, packing.

"_I need some time away," Sydney explained, as she hastily stuffed items in her suitcase. "Nothing seems to make sense here any more."_

_Irina watched her, silently._

_Sydney paused after stuffing in another shirt and looked up, angrily. "Was I the only one here that didn't know Analise was just in another building?"_

"_You were the only one that didn't ask," Irina responded sharply. "I took her from that room that day and the doctors examined her. And everyone here…they had all watched you go through that pregnancy, and they wanted to see her. They wanted to know what I was going to do with her."_

_Sydney sank onto her bed. "And I didn't." She shook her head, and looked up confused. "Why does she think Sark's her father?"_

"_She started calling him that on her own several months ago. It seems to suit the relationship they have."_

"_But he's not her father," Sydney countered._

"_She's a little young for that explanation, Sydney. He's the only father she knows."_

_Sydney stood up again. "I still…" She pulled down the top her suitcase and zipped it shut. "I don't know how to handle all of this." She dragged the suitcase off the bed._

_Irina nodded. "How long will you be gone?"_

_Sydney headed for the door. "I don't know. I just, I need to think."_

Irina assumed Sydney would head for her house in Australia. A week passed and Sydney neither called her nor returned. If she contacted Sark, he didn't mention it.

Irina made arrangements to have a nursery put into the guest room closest to hers and emptied out building 7.

Another week passed.

Analise stopped sneaking out of her new room to find Irina in the middle of the night.

Another four days.

Irina spent a day away on business. It was past midnight when she returned. She peeked in to be sure her granddaughter was sleeping before heading down the stairs.

The door opened before she reached her study. Sydney dragged in her suitcase, and stiffened when she noted her mother watching her.

"_Welcome back," Irina said simply, and walked into her study._

But she wasn't surprised that Sydney, sans suitcase, entered moments later.

_Sydney took a deep breath. "I want to try."_

_Irina watched her._

_Sydney sat down across from her. "I want to be involved. I don't want to have to wonder or to ask how her life is going. I want to know."_

_The childish giggle from the girl peeking into the room startled Sydney enough that she jumped._

Irina sighed. Apparently, the novelty of sneaking out of her room at night, hadn't quite worn off.

_Irina got up and opened the door, in time to see Charlotte coming down the stairs after the child._

"_Back to bed," Charlotte ordered, taking the girl by the hand._

"_Good night," Irina told the child before closing her office door again._

_Sydney watched with a realization. "You moved her here?"_

"_I told you I wouldn't hide her from you. And it will make it easier for you to be involved." Irina sat back down. "How did you come to this decision?"_

_Sydney swallowed. "Even though I know you've taken great care of her, that you will, I know I'm just going to worry otherwise." She looked down at her hands. "Sark gives me pictures, of Taryn, whenever he knows I'm down or thinking about her. I see the pictures and I want to believe that she's all right. That she's fine. That Vaughn's taking good care of her. But still, without being there to see and watch her, I really don't _know_. And I can't ever stop wondering. I don't want it to be the same way with Analise. I don't know if I can do it. But…I want to try."_

_Irina nodded. She knew that feeling. Having never even met the child, she still looked at the pictures on Sydney's dresser and wondered whether or not Taryn would be all right._

As she looked at the child shifting uncomfortably in the chair across from her, she still wondered. The child's statement hardly made it sound like she had been fine, even prior to Sloane's attempt on her life. Sydney had always been so certain Taryn had been better off without her, but she never had truly checked.

Irina looked at the child with narrowed eyes. "Do you love your father, Taryn?"

Taryn nodded immediately. "Yes." She closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

"Do you think he loves you?"

"He says he does, but..." Taryn stared at the floor and her shoulders sagged. "I…don't know." She paused, but continued before Irina could prod her with the obvious question. "He looks at me sometimes, like I make him sad. I think it's because I look like my mom. And he gets so mad at me, even when I haven't done anything. For awhile, he wouldn't even let me see Grandpa. My therapist says it's not about me, but I know it is. My mom left, and he got stuck with me." The girl crossed her arms and hugged herself.

Irina blinked slowly and wondered how long her granddaughter had been feeling so unwanted. Wonder how Vaughn could let her feel so unloved. "Does your father know how you feel?" The question came out more harshly than she intended.

Taryn didn't seem to notice. "He doesn't listen to me. If I get mad, I get in trouble. So I just run away. He always finds me though."

"Where would you go if he didn't find you?"

"I don't know." She looked at her hands. "Last time, I thought I might look for my mom."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "You want to meet your mother?"

"Yeah. I want to ask her why she left. And if, she wanted me. And I just want to know what she's like. And if she's okay. So I can stop...wondering." There was actual emotion on the child's face for almost the first time since they'd begun their conversation. A sadness in her eyes that switched to uncertainty as if she was realizing for the first time how much she'd opened up to this woman she barely knew.

Irina smiled at her and changed the subject. "I think it's time for lunch."

Taryn grimaced. "I'm not..."

She trailed off at Irina's disapproving look. Irina stood up and started for the door. She heard the girl stand up and start to follow reluctantly. Irina slowed her pace, forcing Taryn to catch up to her as they started down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Have you heard from, Sydney?" Taryn questioned.

"It's only been a couple days. It's going to take time for her to find your father," Irina responded, stopping a moment and looking down at Taryn. "Are you worried about her?"

Taryn answered, without looking at her. "I just want people to stop disappearing."

A guard approached them as they reached the sitting room.

"Taryn, go on into the kitchen," Irina ordered. "I'll join you in a moment."

Taryn looked at the guard curiously then did as told.

Irina turned to the guard expectantly.

"Sark's plane landed twenty minutes ago. He should be here in a couple hours."

Irina nodded and the guard exited. She turned towards the kitchen door to see Taryn coming back out of the room. Her face was pale and she was hyperventilating.

"Taryn? What's wrong?"

The little girl at her with wide, glassy eyes but didn't say anything.

Irina carefully grasped her by the arms and guided her over to a seat on the couch. She looked her in the eye. "Taryn, what's the matter?"

Taryn swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath. She blinked hard and tears started down her cheeks.

"There's blood in the kitchen."


End file.
